A Long Road towards Recovery
by morning sunlight
Summary: Dean has suffered a lifechanging injury, can Sam help him find a way to recover when the supernatural has nothing to offer? And just how did it happen, because Dean sure as hell doesn't remember?
1. Nadir

**_A Long Road towards Recovery_**

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**_Disclaimer_** : They don't belong to me, but I wish they did.

**Summary**: _Dean has suffered a life-changing injury, can Sam help him find a way to recover when the supernatural has nothing to offer? And just how did it happen, because Dean sure as hell doesn't remember?_

**_Thanks_** to Rae Artemis for... everything!

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_**Chapter 1 - Nadir**_

It´s another dingy, dead-end motel, poorly lit thankfully, so that they can´t quite make out those nasty stains on the carpet. Sam Winchester stares at the TV in horrified fascination at the scene playing out on it. He´s seen the film before, knows what it´s about, knows what happens at the end. He is well aware that he is not Tom Cruise and Dean is most definitely not Dustin Hoffman, but somehow it just feels too close to home right now as he sees Dustin Hoffman as Raymond, rocking back and forth.

Sam draws his knees up towards his chest and rests his elbows on them, leaning his forehead into his hands and massaging his temples. He´s tired but he can´t rest. This is the best he can hope for at the moment. Later, when Dean is ready to rest, he can try sleeping but until then, he´s got to stay awake.

He looks up sharply as the sound of a smoke alarm comes from the TV. It shouldn´t be loud enough to be a problem, but Sam lowers the volume further in case. He watches Raymond´s reaction as he begins to panic and bang his head against the door. Sam's fascination evaporates, it's all too real, too personal. He reaches for the remote and turns the TV off. He puts his head down, he just wants the world to go away. He doesn't want this life; not for either of them, but since Dean doesn't get a choice and can't walk away, so Sam´s chance to do so dissipates with it. He stays. He stays because he loves his brother, he stays because if he doesn´t Dean doesn´t have anyone to take care of him, but worst of all, he stays because he feels guilty because Dean wouldn´t be in this position if Sam wasn´t the person he is.

The silence in the room is broken abruptly by the smacking sound of skin on skin. Respite over, Sam pushes himself clear of the bed and over to the chair where his brother is sitting. Dean´s hand smacks again against his forehead as Sam reaches him, struggling to catch Dean´s arm and still the movement. "Dean, no! Dean, stop, please. Stop, I´m here, just stop," but Sam knows the words are wasted on his brother. Dean is lost in a world of pain right now. He can´t speak, hear or see when he is like this. He is alone with a pain inside his head so intense that it is incomprehensible to others. Sam cannot imagine how bad it really is, but he grasps his brother firmly, stilling the movement, pulls Dean into his body so that he can free one of his own hands.

He digs in his pocket, throwing a handful of small colour-coded pill boxes onto the table in front of him, his fingers searching urgently for the one he needs now. Found! He flips the lid, emptying its contents out in front. He picks up the pills and forces them into his brother´s mouth, grasping the glass of water Dean had had earlier and tipping it up at his brother´s lips. Dean gags, coughs, water escaping from his mouth as Sam forces the glass back to his lips again, counting on Dean swallowing reflexively to actually get the pills down.

Sam hates this. It had sounded so simple in the doctor´s office. "When your brother has one of the severe episodes, just give him two of these with water. They are fast-acting and after a few minutes, he will be able to begin to relax and will soon fall asleep for a while." The problem is when Dean has one of these attacks, they often start without warning and Dean can´t help himself. He fights against the pain and against Sam, blindly unaware of the help being offered.

Sam has nearly choked his brother three times this week alone, trying to force these wretched pills down his throat, and the next time, they see a doctor, he´s going to demand that they find a better way to control the pain, because Dean shouldn´t be allowed to continue to be in this much pain.

The problem is that given his injuries, many of the doctors they´ve seen actually consider that Dean is lucky to be alive, let alone the fact that on a good day, he can walk and talk on his own. Their patronising attitude doesn´t cut ice with Sam. His brother is not lucky to be alive, his brother _deserves_ to be alive and to be the independent free spirit he´s always been and they won´t be setting foot inside the office of the doctor who said that Sam was fortunate that Dean wasn´t just a vegetable. They won´t be going back there and it isn´t just because there is an injunction out on Sam now.

Sam feels the miniscule levels of relaxation in Dean´s tense and trembling body as the drugs begin to take effect. He gradually releases his firm hold, but keeps a secure, reassuring arm around his brother. He recognises the moment, those few seconds when he can lead his brother over to the bed, those few seconds when Dean´s body will respond to Sam´s insistence. Too soon and the pain will still be too great, too late and Dean will be too out of it to respond to anything short of a bomb blast next to his ear.

He gently pulls Dean down to sit on the edge of the bed. It´s all the prompting he needs to lie down, although Sam lifts his legs and places them on the bed, pulling off Dean´s sneakers as he does so. This isn´t Dean, this submissive pliant body. It´s a shell and right now, it´s a broken one at that.

Sam settles beside his brother, gently running his fingers across Dean´s forehead, temples and through the stubble that is all that has regrown of his brother´s hair so far. At one time, he´d have been embarrassed by this touch, this affection, but now it isn´t worth the wasted time. He´d done it once wondering, curious as to the feel of the stubble. Unlike his own dark mess of hair, Dean´s has always been shorter, well-groomed, but this is too short, too harsh and Sam hates the fact that it is not even long enough to hide the network of scars that now cover Dean´s scalp. He remembers that first time, his own shock at what he´d been doing exceeded only by the fact that once he´d withdrawn his hand, Dean´s hand had moved seeking that touch, that... Sam has no idea what it was that Dean sought, reassurance, contact, support, it doesn´t matter. It´s something Sam can do, something Sam found that helps, not the doctors who push, prod and talk around his brother to him. They ask him how Dean eats, sleeps, walks, talks and ignore his brother sitting there, still and waiting. They send his brother for endless tests and scans and then tell Sam what he can do for his brother. It makes Sam feel sick to the stomach that Dean sits there and takes it, submissive as he only ever was for their father. He hates it and he hates the fact that Dean climbs wearily into the passenger seat and then takes his anger and frustration out on Sam. It isn´t that he doesn´t understand, it isn´t that he doesn´t think he deserves to suffer under all that anger and frustration, it´s that the doctors who treat Dean like a case study, a curiosity, deserve it too.

But for now, Sam is doing what he can, and right now that means gently running his fingers through Dean´s hair until he falls asleep.

Dean´s breathing has evened out, his body relaxed into the sleep that brings reprieve from that onslaught of pain. Sam lies down beside him hoping that he too can sleep for a while. His body aches with weariness, but his mind still rages on as he drapes one arm over his brother and closes his eyes. They share a bed now most nights because Sam has woken to too many mornings with Dean not where he should be, in the neighbouring bed.

He´s woken before to the sound of his brother vomiting in the bathroom, to his brother seizing on the floor, to his brother sitting silent and motionless, bag packed, by the door, waiting to leave. Worst of all though, were the times he woke to Dean not there at all. He knows if it happens again where Dean will be but it doesn´t make it any easier to take. Dean never goes far without Sam any more. He doesn´t say it, but Sam can see he´s frightened by this body that betrays him. Dean, the fearless soldier, is afraid of what will happen without his brother by his side, what will happen when the pain comes or the seizures, or when he stumbles and falls; what will happen if no-one is there to pull him out of this hell. On those mornings when Dean has gone, he will have left the door open and he will be sitting or standing by the Impala waiting to leave.

Dean never explains why they are leaving and Sam doesn´t ask anymore. He asked at the beginning, but seeing his brother distressed by something else he can´t explain wearies him and so now, Sam just unlocks the car, puts in the bags and makes sure Dean is settled before he heads out of the parking lot and into the distance, because it never seems to matter where they go, so long as they are moving.

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_**Kind of a secondary disclaimer or just information** the film Sam is watching at the beginning of the chapter is 'Rain Man' for anyone who hasn't seen it._


	2. Life is like this, day in, day out

**_Chapter 2 - Life is like this, day in, day out_

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_Disclaimer and Summary inside Chapter 1._

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Sam wakes to movement beneath his arm. Lifting himself up carefully, he sees Dean just stirring beside him on the bed. Looking at his watch, he wonders if he could soothe Dean back to sleep and moves his hand to ease the frown that has settled on Dean´s forehead, but he´s too late as he sees Dean´s eyes open and Sam knows how the next few minutes will play out.

Dean is already trying to stand, and Sam wonders how it is Dean doesn´t learn, doesn´t remember to take it slow. "Easy, Dean. Don´t rush," but Sam´s too slow with the warning, as he sees the tell-tale sign of the head rush and Dean stumbles. He might be too late with the warning but not to catch his brother and steady him. Sam holds on until he´s sure Dean has his balance then lets go and watches as Dean moves towards the bathroom.

Sam watches as what was once his strong, self-reliant, confident brother now hesitates in his walk across the room, unsure, trying so hard to not bump into anything or stumble. Sam can almost feel the energy and effort it´s taking as it buzzes in the room. Dean closes the bathroom door. It´s all Sam can do to stop himself from giving Dean a countdown to come back out. He´s only just keeping himself together as it is, without giving into the temptation to listen at the door. Realistically, and from past experience, Sam knows if Dean is sick, the motel bathroom door is not so thick he won´t hear, similarly, if Dean falls. It´s just that in his heart, he is so frightened of Dean falling... one more knock to the head, however slight, and it might all be over; and there´s just so many things for Dean to bang his head on in the confined space of the bathroom.

The door opens and Dean comes out, one hand trailing along the wall. It´s another bad sign, another thing that tells Sam, Dean isn´t alright. Sam stands and takes his arm, guiding him to the chair.

Once he´s sitting down, Sam sits in front of him, taps his knee gently to get his attention. ¨"How are you feeling? Are you okay?"

Dean looks up and says, "Okay. I'm okay. I´m going to be okay, aren´t I Sam?"

Sam nods and rubs his arm reassuringly. "Of course, why wouldn´t you be? You´ll get over this, Dean." He hates saying it, afraid he´s lying, afraid that Dean won´t ever be okay again.

Dean looks at him again and asks, "Is it time yet, Sam? Please. Is it time now?"

Sam sees the tremors and twitches in the hand that had trailed the wall, looks at his watch before saying, "Yes Dean, it´s time. I´ll just get some water."

He makes a sandwich at the same time as he gets the water and, coming back, he places both on the table beside Dean. He puts his hand out to the table, knocking the tubs he´d dropped earlier so he can find the one Dean needs now. He flicks the lid off and places it alongside the sandwich and water, before sitting back down again.

Dean turns to face the table and Sam realises that Dean is making adjustments all the time, he is learning the limitations of his body. Where once he would have glanced fleetingly and snagged a sandwich with the barest of consideration, he now turns to face the items on the table, needing time, space and concentration to stand a chance of securing each item. Sam watches as he reaches for the pills. He stops his hand gently and pushes it towards the sandwich, then knocks the pills a bit further away as he says, "You need to eat the sandwich first."

Dean´s eyes lift, Sam can see the understanding, but then Dean says, "I feel sick Sam. I don´t want the sandwich. I´m sorry."

It doesn´t matter how much sympathy he feels, how much he wants just once to give Dean what he wants, he knows it´ll only make it worse so instead he says, "No Dean. You have to eat first or the pills will make you sick."

Sam waits and sees Dean slowly pick up the sandwich and take a bite. He eats and swallows, then takes another bite. Sam remembers how they used to sit in diners and Dean would eat ravenously talking about plans and hunts and people and now... now they don´t... now they sit in their room and they eat in silence, because now Dean struggles to do one thing at a time. Now Dean can´t bear the thought of people seeing him, the possibility that he might be a spectacle.

Dean puts the sandwich down and reaches for the glass, lifts it carefully and take the barest of sips, replacing it on the table with a solid thunk that seems to surprise him. He reaches to pick up the sandwich again and finds himself grasping thin air. He tries again only to knock the plate further to the right without touching the sandwich at all. Frustration takes over and Dean´s fist slams down onto the table, only for Sam´s hand to settle over it gently a moment later. Sam squeezes his hand and Dean´s fingers relax as Sam lifts his hand, placing it down, fingers touching the bread. As Dean lifts and bites the sandwich again, he won´t meet Sam´s eyes. Sam is sorry that it´s the moments like this that keep his hope up because it´s Dean´s reaction then that assures Sam that Dean is still there, trapped somewhere inside this struggling body.


	3. And the days merge

_**Chapter 3 - And the days merge into one long nightmare**_

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_**Disclaimer:** Jordan is mine but only because I'm not allowed to keep Dean or Sam..._

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As soon as Sam has opened the door, Dean makes his way into the bathroom whilst Sam gets water and yet more pills ready on the table. By the time Dean is seated by Sam, the shaking in his arm is easily noticeable. Sam has left the pills on the table next to a glass of water, but leaves Dean now to take them himself. Or at least that was the plan... watching the pills skitter across the table repeatedly and Dean´s frustration grow, Sam picks them up and holds them out in his palm so Dean can get them more easily. 

Dean sips at the water, taking barely enough to wash the pills down. Sam sighs and says, "You need to drink more than that." Dean sips again. Sam continues to watch so he holds the glass ready for another small sip, each one a small victory for Sam.

Suddenly the quiet of the room is shattered as Sam´s phone rings. As he snatches the phone open, Sam hears the glass smash as it hits the edge of the table, then the floor, feels as the water splashes up his leg and sees as Dean´s hands come up to cover his ears trying to block out the noise and Dean begins to rock back and forth in pain.

"Yes?" he almost shouts into the phone, "Jordan? Listen, hold on, give me a minute." He sets the phone down and reaches for Dean, gently stopping the rocking motion. He clasps one hand over Dean´s wrist and tries to ease the hand away from his head, saying quietly, "Dean, it´s over, the noise has stopped, come on now," over and over until he sees Dean´s eyes clear and his brother half nods to say he understands and everything´s okay now.

Sam picks up the phone again. "Jordan, sorry... Yeah, I´m with you now... We´re okay... we´re getting by... he´s in front of me now, we´re taking it easy after a walk... a bit you know." It´s a carefully coded conversation. Sam doesn´t say what he really means, he doesn´t say just how much life sucks, just how bad Dean is. He doesn´t need to, Jordan knows, more or less. They know that ´a bit you know´ means Dean is coping but he´s in pain, ´not great´ is a day when Dean´s headaches have pushed them both to the edge, ´a bit rough´ means Dean´s had another seizure and ´a bit hard´ is when Dean´s frustration levels are hard to manage. Jordan is there for Sam, like he´s always been there for Dean, it´s a new progression in their friendship, a shared concern. Jordan spends as much time as he can with them, trying to ease the burden on Sam, trying to convince Sam the guilt is not his for what happened. And when he isn´t with them, they are never far from his mind as every place he stops, he tries to find out about the local medical and treatment facilities and any specialists in dealing with head trauma patients.

It´s why he´s phoned today, he´s found another possibility, but he doesn´t want to say too much. It´s something they need to discuss properly. It´s got pretty heavy implications. Right now, Sam will consider anything if it might help, but even more than that he needs some company. He needs to talk to someone other than the cautious conversations he has with Dean. So Sam agrees to head out to meet Jordan.

Hanging up, he looks at Dean, who is trying to clear up the mess of broken glass and water. "Are you okay?" he asks.

Dean replies, "I´m sorry."

Sam isn´t worried about a broken glass or spilt water, he´s worried about the pain in Dean´s head that meant he dropped the glass in the first place. "Can I help?" he asks.

Dean says "Yes," quietly, and steps back from the table and now Sam can see he has cut his hand on the broken glass.

"Dean, let me do the glass and you clear up the water," he offers. Dean just looks at the mess and the cut on his hand in disgust.

Sam thinks it's good that Dean has already taken his pills because he´s lethargic and he´s so much easier to coerce like this than when he is angry and frustrated. Instead Sam makes conversation as they clear up and as he cleans and dresses the cut on Dean´s hand. He tells Dean they´re going to meet Jordan, it will be good to see him, to have a chat with him, it´s been a couple of weeks since they last caught up on news.

With Dean´s hand covered, Sam can see that his brother´s eyelids are growing heavy and so he suggests that perhaps they could leave now and that maybe Dean could sleep in the car.

Dean stands and starts to pack his few belongings ready to leave. Sam is thankful for another fortunate averting of a disaster. "If you´re tired, you could sleep in the car as we drive. We´ve got a long way to go," he repeats himself softly to be sure Dean understands.


	4. Confusion

**_Chapter 4 - Confusion_**

Sam is relieved when signs for the motel appear on the highway. He has driven without stopping since Dean last fell asleep and now he is bone-weary. He is thankful that Dean has had a decent sleep for once but wishes he could have taken advantage of it too.

He makes a quick decision to pull off the road and wake Dean now, so he has a chance to come round before they meet Jordan. He knows Jordan doesn´t mind, works with whatever mood Dean is in and lets it ride, but somehow he just prefers to give Dean time to try and adjust, an opportunity to know what´s happening before the event. He´ll be lucky if Dean remembers half of their earlier conversations.

Turning the engine off, he tries to gently rouse his brother, "Dean... Dean, come on now... you need to wake up."

Dean´s eyes open slowly, focus on Sam and look round. He sits up slowly and looks beyond the car. "Where are we?"

Sam goes over again where they are and that they´ve come to see Jordan. He explains that they are almost at the motel ready to meet Jordan. He sees the distress in Dean´s features as he says, "I´m sorry Sam," before turning to look out of the window.

Sam sighs, he´d been worried that this was a possibility. It isn´t the first time they´ve gone to see Jordan only for Dean to refuse at the last minute. It´s happened twice before and Dean can never explain why, but within a couple of days, things always change and they have been able to catch up with him again. "It´s okay, Dean. I´ll drive a bit further, find us a different motel. It´s fine." He finds himself saying, 'it´s okay, it´s fine' to lots of things lately, lots of things that are neither fine nor okay, but he knows Dean can´t help it and so they deal with it as best they can. "We´ll leave in the morning, go somewhere else for a while, but I can´t drive much further today. Okay?"

"Why?" Dean´s voice is full of confusion.

"We´ve come a long way today. You´ve slept a lot today, which is good, but I promise first thing tomorrow we´ll leave."

Dean´s face shows his peturbation, Sam sees him trying to remember and replay the conversation they´ve just had. "Dean? What is it? Are you okay?"

"I thought," his voice is hesitant, showing how little faith he has now in anything he thinks, "I thought we were going to see Jordan."

Sam sighs, "It was something we could do, but it´s okay if you don´t want to, we´ll go somewhere else. Would you like to go and see Jordan?"

"I guess."

"Dean, when you said you were sorry just now, what were you sorry for?" Sam asks, thinking maybe he´d just jumped to the wrong conclusion about Dean´s statement earlier.

"I keep asking you the same questions, you keep telling me things over and over again. I can´t remember the answers. When you tell me, I remember asking so why can´t I remember the answer?"

"Don´t worry, it´s okay to ask the questions. I don´t mind, I understand. We went to see a doctor before. He explained that you might find remembering information difficult. Some people who have had injuries to their head, like you, have problems with their short-term memory."

"I don´t remember Sam. I don´t remember and I know I should."

"It´ll be okay, maybe in time it´ll get better or we´ll find better ways to help you remember."

"I´m sorry, Sam."

Sam knows there´s no point in telling him not to be sorry so he just lets it slide, along with the apology he wants to give Dean because he won´t understand why Sam is apologising and right now he doesn´t seem to remember what happened or at least not when he´s awake and that might just be a blessing in disguise.


	5. Forcing the Issue

_**Chapter 5 - Forcing the issue**_

The distinctive sound of the Impala pulling into the parking lot and stopping beside Jordan´s own Chevy Chevelle is enough to bring him out of the room to meet the brothers. As the engine dies, Jordan calls a greeting to Sam as he heads to Dean´s door and opens it.

Without a word, he offers Dean a hand in support as he gets out of the car. Dean pushes the hand aside angrily, instead grasping the top of the door and hauling himself upright out of the car. He hangs on grimly to the door as his head swims and his vision swirls, oblivious to the fact Jordan has moved to catch him if he falls.

As his head settles and his balance returns, his posture relaxes a fraction and Jordan steps silently back. "Good to see you, Dean. So has Sam´s driving improved any yet?"

The response he receives is irritable, "Sam´s driving is fine." Dean moves a step back from the door and begins to push it closed.

"Glad to hear it," Jordan says easily. "So I didn´t know whether you two wanted a room to yourselves or to share with me. Any preference?"

Sam looks for a reaction from Dean but there isn´t one, so he shrugs at Jordan before asking, "Dean, which would you like, to share a room the three of us or just you and me?"

The irritation in his voice earlier is still there as Dean replies, "If we share, we save money. It´s not like any of us has money to spare so we have to share."

He mutters on angrily about money and motels, but both Sam and Jordan ignore the complaints, with Jordan instead replying cheerily, "In which case, we´re in room five down at the quiet end of this block."

Sam looks at him in relief, before turning to Dean and saying, "Come on then, let´s get our stuff in." He lifts three bags from the trunk and gives one to Dean before taking the other two himself. Jordan looks at him a question on his lips, but Sam just shakes his head and mouths, "Later."

They follow Dean, who looking back at Sam, asks suddenly, "Which room is ours?"

Sam replies calmly, "We're in room five, Dean, down at the end of the block, just keep going."

Dean stumbles as he steps from the tarmac of the parking lot onto the path that runs along outside the rooms. Jordan has kept close enough that he is easily able to catch a firm hold of Dean´s arm and keep him on his feet. "Easy there, Dean," he says, as Dean attempts to shake off the support. "Just get your balance, dude. There´s no rush, it´s not a problem."

The look Dean throws at him says plenty without needing words. It says that it is a problem, but Jordan just repeats his message saying calmly, "Ease up, Dean."

Dean turns away and tries to stride forward, but misses his footing again, this time barely avoiding the floor by catching himself on a bench outside one of the other rooms. Sam and Jordan both draw an anxious breath as Dean swears as he regains his balance. Jordan steps alongside and holding out a hand, he offers to take the bag saying, "You´re tired, Dean, just let me give you a hand."

"Sam´s the one who´s tired. Sam´s the one who has been driving. Help Sam." The unspoken message is leave me alone, I need to do this myself, I need to be _able_ to do this myself.

Jordan turns and Sam hands him a bag saying, "Thanks, _I_ appreciate the help." He shrugs as he lets go, hoping Jordan understands that he knows what he´s trying to do but that Dean just doesn´t see it that way. Sam knows that right now Dean isn´t able to accept that he needs help and that it´s okay for him to accept help. He´s too used to his independence.

Jordan moves the conversation on, "So where have you two been this time?"

Sam is just starting to answer, when Dean asks, "Which room is ours?"

Jordan answers this time,"Room 5, Dean, keep going, it´s the next one. It´s the one with the open door. That´s the one," he finishes as Dean reaches the door. He looks back at Sam and sees just how exhausted he is.

By the time they enter, Dean has already dropped the bag and is making his way to the bathroom. As the door closes, Jordan says "You rest Sam, we´ll go out for a walk for a bit. The fresh air will do him good and you could do with some sleep."

Sam shrugs saying, "Thanks for the offer Jay, but I don´t know that he´ll go for it. Don´t worry about me, I´m fine."

Jordan shakes his head. "No Sam, you´re not fine. You´re exhausted, you need some sleep. He´s going to come with me, don´t give him a choice. He won´t come to any harm and you´re only a phone call away. I hate to say it, Sam, but he is going to have to learn to let you out of his sight for both of your sakes. This isn´t healthy. I know he´s finding it hard. It is hard, it sucks, but knowing it doesn´t change it. Dean is going to have to learn in case..."

"... in case this is permanent, in case this is as good as it gets... fuck Jordan, look at the state he´s in. He´s a mess. He can´t make it from the car to here and remember the room number. He can´t remember which state we´re in, let alone the name of the town. How in hell is he supposed to learn to cope?"

"Sam," Jordan says quietly, ushering the younger man to one of the beds, "I´ll be with him, I won´t let anything happen to him. You need to rest or you´re going to be no good to him either."

The bathroom door opens and Dean comes out, barely sparing a glance for either man as he tries to negotiate the bags on his way to a chair. "Sorry dude," says Jordan, lifting the bags out of his way. "Don´t sit down though, we´re going out. Get your ass into gear, come on."

Dean looks round at Sam, unsure, as if he´s wondering if this is another conversation he´s forgotten . Sam just says, "It´s okay, Jordan´s planned it, you two are going out for a while. I´m going to rest, I´m tired, we drove a long way today."

Dean nods understanding, then says, "No, it´s okay. I´ll stay with Sam."

But Jordan is having none of that. He steps between Dean and the chair saying, "That´s not an option, Deano. The only choice is coming with me or sitting outside in the back of my car." Sam grimaces but Jordan remains firm, "Sam needs sleep and you need air so you´re coming for your own good."

Dean looks panicked, frightened as he starts to say, "What if..." before falling silent and turning away.

Jordan rests his hand on Dean´s arm, "What if what, Dean?"

"Something happens," he replies quietly.

"Tell me, Deano, what sort of something might happen that we can´t deal with, you and me, huh?" Jordan is pushing gently, they´ve been trying for months to get Dean to talk about his fears and concerns.

"I... I might need Sam for something, what if..."

"What Dean?"

"Dean," says Sam, knowing he can´t let his own fear of letting his brother out of his sight show. "Dean, I´ll give Jay your pills, you take your water then if you need them, you say to Jay, but you´ll be fine, you won´t need them."

Both men can hear the fear in his voice as Dean says, "Jordan doesn´t know which, what they´re for."

"No, he doesn´t," confirms Sam. "But you do."

Dean´s breath gets shorter as he panics more, realising he has no choice, they are going to make him do this. Sam stands and moves close to his brother saying quietly, "Take your wallet out," Dean does as he´s told. "Look inside, you´ve got it all written down so you´ll be fine. Jordan can phone if there´s a problem. You won´t be far away. Go with Jordan." Sam very deliberately hands the pill tubs over to Jordan, so Dean knows it´s final, he´s going out now.

"Come on, dude," Jordan says warmly, "Let´s hit the road."

Without another word, Dean follows Jordan out of the door. Once outside, Jordan adjusts his pace to match Dean´s slower one, making sure he´s beside him ready to support him if he needs. Sam watches them go from the doorway until he sees Jordan look back and wave him away. Then he heads for bed, soon giving into exhaustion.


	6. It wasn't supposed to go that way

_**Chapter 6 - It wasn´t supposed to go that way**_

Jordan and Dean cross the parking lot and walk down the road into the park and as they settle into a pace with Jordan chatting about what he´s been doing, Dean seems to relax a little. He concentrates on where he´s putting his feet and doesn´t seem to be aware of how Jordan is poised to catch him as they walk.

They pause at a junction in the path as Dean waits to be told which way to go and Jordan says, "So what have you two been doing, then?"

"We go out for walks and Sam drives us places," Dean answers bluntly.

"So how´s it going?"

The look Dean gives him is a mixture of anguish and anger as he says, "I used to hunt, I used to drive, I used to be able to run, now I go for walks and I let Sam drive. How do you think it´s going?"

"Give it time, Dean."

The hurt and pain reverberates between them as Dean says, "I fall twice getting from the car to our room; a room I can´t remember the number of for more than ten seconds. And _Yes_, I do remember that I asked more than once, but you know something, I don´t know the answer, even now. All of that and you just say 'Give it time, Dean'. How much time, Jordan? How are we supposed to hunt like this?"

"You´re not supposed to hunt like this. You´re supposed to get well first and I'm sorry but I don´t know how long that will take. I wish I could tell you how much longer you had to put up with this, I wish I could do something so you didn´t have to go through this, but I can´t because life sucks and sometimes we just don´t get any lucky breaks and you used to know that, I think you still do. For now Dean, we´ve just got to work on getting you well and then seeing what happens next."

They walk in silence for a few minutes until Dean stumbles into Jordan. Jordan holds him steady until he opens his eyes as his head and vision begin to settle again. He walks unsteadily onward until Jordan guides him to rest on a bench. "Come on, let´s take a break for a few minutes."

Jordan can feel the tremors in Dean´s arm before they sit down. "You okay just now?" he asks.

"I need my pills," is the agitated reply.

Jordan reaches in his pocket as he asks, "Which ones do you need?"

The agitation grows as Dean says, "... er... blue... blue? I think... shit!"

Staying calm, Jordan takes control of the situation, "Okay Dean, you´re fine. Just get your wallet out and check. You´ve got all the information we need. Let´s just have a look, shall we?"

As Dean retrieves the card from his wallet, Jordan watches as he studies it sightlessly, before handing it to Jordan, "You were right, it´s blue."

And so as Jordan sorts out the blue tub, Dean fishes the bottle of water from his jacket pocket, carefully unscrewing the lid. "How many do you need?" Jordan asks, having already realised the tub only contains the next dose.

"Two," Dean sounds almost sure.

"That´s okay. You remember; it´s fine. You can do it, Dean. I know it´s taking time and it´s frustrating, but you can do it. Sam doesn´t have to be with you for you to be fine. We can do it too. You see." As he talks, Jordan has taken the lid off the pills and shaken them onto Dean´s palm and watched as he swallows them with a bare sip of water. Dean sits forward with his head in his hand. Jordan rests his hand on Dean´s back, "It will be okay, it´s just going to take time but you will get there."

There is a silence as Dean continues to sit, head in hand, waiting for the tremors to pass, aware of the weight of Jordan´s hand, silently grateful for the contact that keeps him grounded as he feels his emotions could spin him out of control right now. As the pain recedes, he sits back a little and his voice is barely more then a whisper as he puts words to his biggest fear, " What if I don´t, Jordan? What if I don´t get there?"

It´s not like Sam and Jordan don´t know what he´s frightened of. Their own fears for him aren´t that different but whereas they have discussed the fears and what their options are, Dean is Dean and in that, he doesn´t talk. He locks his fears, inside, trying to protect the people around him from his worries. It´s never been healthy but Sam and Jordan know it´s too ingrained for them to change it now, but they can´t talk contingencies or plans, good or bad, with him until he is ready.

"I´ve never known you give up trying, Deano," he begins. "Sam and me, we´re here, we aren´t going to leave you on your own..."

"What´s this doing to Sam?"

"Sam is fine, he´s just tired because he drove a long way today," Jordan knows there´s more to Sam´s exhaustion than just a long drive, but it can´t be helped, nothing is going to stop him being worried until Dean´s condition is more controlled. If things go well over the next few days, there may be hope on the horizon.

But Dean knows his brother better than to accept Jordan´s platitude. "No he´s not. I´m driving him nuts. I can´t be trusted to do anything without someone watching me."

"Dean, it´s not about Sam not trusting you, it´s..."

But Dean beats him to the finish, "Not him, me! I don´t trust _me!_ You don´t understand. I don´t know where we are, I can´t read my own fucking watch, let alone a map. What happens if I´m on my own and I have a...a..." but he can´t bring himself to say the word, as if admitting the fear might somehow make it happen.

Jordan´s hand clasps on his shoulder. "It will get better. I know the seizures are bad right now, but they will find the right meds or the right dose. They´ll work out the trigger or... or something and they´ll get it under control then. It won´t be so bad then, Dean. It will make it better for you."

"I´m killing him like this. I´m ruining all his chances."

There is a truth to his words that Jordan won´t admit, because it´s no more Dean´s fault than it is Sam´s. "No, Dean, you´re not killing him like this, but if you are really that worried, why don´t the three of us stay together until things get better. Then if you think Sam needs a break, we´ll let him have one, like now. You and me, we can hang together, like old times...What do you think?"

"It´s not right."

"Really? Tell me something, Dean, because it's something I need to know, it´s something I´ve counted on for a long time and if I´m wrong I need to know... if something happened to me... if I was in a hospital, on my own, would you visit? See, I´ve got no Sam, my sisters don´t know me, you know that and my mom, she told me last time I tried to get in touch that I made my choice, I don´t get to go back now. I get that.. but see I always told myself that you would visit... that you wouldn´t leave me to rot into madness, that you´d still make sure I was okay. I don't want to turn into a Daniel Elkins, festering away in a cabin, talking to myself... I told myself you'd come and visit. Would you do that, Dean?"

"I´d be there."

"So this... this is nothing. You´re not festering away and we can still deal with it. We don´t need to give hope up yet."

Dean concedes, saying, "Maybe, for a while then, for Sam."

"For Sam, yeah," Jordan agrees. " How are you doing now? You ready to head back? There´s a diner over the road from the motel that does good coffee."

"Yeah," Dean stands slowly and doesn´t shake off Jordan´s support until he´s sure he´s got his balance and even then it´s a gentle movement that says, "Thanks, I´m okay for now."


	7. Could it get any worse?

_**Chapter 7 - Could it get any worse?**_

The diner is quiet as they walk in and as the two of them sit down, the waitress brings menus over straightaway. Jordan says, "Just a black coffee for me. You want the same, Dean?"

"No, just water."

"Okay, so that´s a black coffee and a water, sure you don´t want anything else?" she asks.

"Not for the minute thanks." As she walks away, Jordan says, "No coffee, that´s a bit of a change."

He gets no response from Dean, so instead begins to tell Dean a story of something they did as kids. Dean nods at the memory, adds the odd detail and Jordan flashes his trademark grin. It doesn´t take the waitress long to return with their order and she sets the drinks down before leaving them to continue their conversation in peace.

Jordan sips at his coffee and watches as Dean looks out of the window. He notices him pick up the glass and bring it to his mouth as if he is drinking but not a sip passes his lips before he sets the glass back on the table. Jordan sees him repeat the process several times before deciding to challenge Dean on it, wondering if Dean actually realises what he is doing.

Just after Dean sets the glass back on the table again, he says, "Dean..." only for the rest of his words to be drowned out by the siren wail of a fire truck. He winces at the noise and sees as Dean´s hands go up to covers his ears and his eyes close. Pain is written clearly in his face as he rocks himself back and forth.

When the siren is far enough away to no longer be a problem, Jordan reaches his hand across the table, resting it on Dean´s arm. He waits, feeling the tremors that course through Dean. He waits until Dean slowly opens his eyes and uncovers his ears, then says, "It´s gone now. Are you okay?"

"God it hurts."

"Yeah, I can see that. How about now? Is it better? Easing off? Are you okay?"

Dean´s voice is agitated as he says, "Can we go back now? I... I need my..."

"Dean?" Jordan queries as the agitation grows as Dean´s whole bearing begins to exude not just anxiety but downright panic. He reaches for Dean´s arm again.

"I need to go to the bathroom. Where is it?"

He´s already trying to push himself to standing before Jordan finishes saying, "It´s over there. Are you feeling okay? Do you want me to come with you?"

Jordan has stood easily and come to stand beside Dean before he´s managed to get himself up. "I...I..." he falls silent as his head swims and he sways, but Jordan is there. Taking Dean´s elbow, he eases him out from the table and round the other tables and chairs to the door to the men´s room.

He opens the door and Dean shrugs off his support as he goes through the door. Jordan leaves him go in alone but waits at the door for him to return. As Dean comes out, he says "I need my pills!"

Jordan says, "Okay, which ones?"

But now Dean sounds confused as he says, "Is it time? Can I have them now?"

Jordan is getting worried as he repeats his question until Dean answers, "Blue."

He tries to stay calm, to instil some control into the escalating anxiety. "Not blue, Dean, you´ve had them. Let me see your wallet, let _me_ see which ones you need." He is leading Dean back to the table as he says it.

"The red... no ... the ... I... I don´t know." Dean´s panic is growing and Jordan is determined to try and hang on to the situation because if something goes wrong now, then getting Dean away from Sam next time is going to be impossible.

"Just let me have your wallet, Dean. I´ll sort it." He sees the shake in his friend´s hand and arm, far worse than the tremors earlier in the park.

Dean struggles to get his wallet free of his pocket and Jordan doesn´t waste time on niceties, just snatches the wallet and removes the card to see for himself. Using his own weight, he has pinned Dean´s body as much as possible against the edge of the booth seating to keep him supported and upright.

He quickly sorts the right pills as Dean says desperately, "I need to go back now, please Jordan."

"We´re going Dean, I promise. Just swallow these and we´ll go. I´ve got you, don´t worry. We´ll be okay." As Dean swallows the pills, Jordan throws cash on the table before slamming the glass back onto the table and pulling Dean out of the door.

He´s thankful the road outside is clear as he manhandles Dean across and back to their room in the motel. He knows he´s going too fast for Dean to be comfortable, knows he´s barely containing his own anxiety at what is happening to Dean, but just wants to get back to Sam so he doesn´t do anything wrong.

The door slams back against the wall, as he pushes it wide with such force. He leads Dean towards the bed next to Sam, only for Dean to fight his way free and make his way to the bathroom. "Dean, just lie down a minute, give the pills a chance to work."

Sam wakens the instant the door bangs. "What´s the matter?" he asks, taking in the panic emanating from both men.

He sees Dean struggle to the bathroom, despite Jordan´s protestations and he knows even as Jordan begins to say, "He´s shaking badly all down one side. I think maybe he´s going to..."

"He´s going to have a seizure," Sam finishes for him. "It could be. A lot have started that way. He doesn´t always get a warning and sometimes this doesn´t develop into a full seizure."

"I tried to get him to lie down but..."

"I know, he wouldn´t. Has he taken any pills while you´ve been out?"

"The blue about three quarters of an hour ago and the orange tub just a few minutes ago when this started. Is that alright?"

"That´s fine. Now we just have to wait and see what happens, but Jay, thanks for looking out for him and for getting him back here before anything could happen."

"Sam, is he alright in there? On his own, I mean. What if...?"

"Yeah."

"You sure?"

"He won´t have locked the door. He never does any more. We´ll hear if anything happens." Sam tries to make it sound like it´s okay, like he isn´t on the edge of panic himself, but in his heart, he´s just as frightened as Jordan is. It doesn´t matter how often he sees Dean have a seizure, he doesn´t get any less frightened by them.


	8. This is as low as I can go before

_**Chapter 8 - This is as low as I can go before I give up hope**_

* * *

_**Author's Note:**_ _At this point, I should confess to no real medical knowledge, everything referred to has been included following internet-based research of medical sites and the like and talking to people who know a little (through experience rather than medical training)._

* * *

The bathroom door opens and Dean begins to step forward. His skin is ashen, the tension in his body immense.

"Dean? Is it getting any better? How are you feeling? " Sam says as he starts to move past Jordan to Dean´s side.

Dean doesn´t get a word out before his knees fold, his body crumples to the floor twitching and he loses awareness of his surroundings. Sam pushes the chair away to give Dean more space before dropping to his knees at his side. "Shit!" he says as his hand falls to his brother´s cheek. "Jordan, watch the time!"

"I´ve got it, don´t worry."

Sam´s attention returns fully to Dean and he talks quietly, words of reassurance, until the tremors finally ease and Dean´s breathing returns to normal, deep and even. Sam changes his own position relieving the pressure on his knees and pulls the cover from his bed to drape over Dean.

Jordan takes that as the sign that the seizure is over and notes both start and finish time on a pad that is lying on the table, before gently reaching over to squeeze Sam´s shoulder in reassurance. "I´m sorry, Sam. A fire truck went past, siren going full blast and everything just escalated from there."

"There´s nothing to be sorry for," Sam replies sadly. "You did everything right even getting him back here before it hit him. There´s nothing more that we can do. When he has one in public, he freaks afterwards, it´s so hard to get him to go anywhere then."

"Look, between us I´m sure we could lift him onto the bed. He doesn´t need to stay on the floor like that."

Sam shakes his head, "No, we´ll leave him here. He should come round in a minute or two and then I´ll get him across to the bed. He´ll sleep for a while then."

Jordan had seen Dean have a seizure before, early on; not long after he had been released from hospital, but it hadn´t lasted that long nor had the build-up to it been so dramatic and panic-filled. "Sam, how bad do they get now?" he asks, dreading the answer Sam might give to his question.

Sam sighs, adjusts the cover again before answering, "Some are worse than that. He has them every couple of days at least now and some days once he´s had one, he´ll have more, another one, sometimes two."

"Is there any way of knowing?"

Sam shakes his head. "I write it all down. I´ll show the next doctor we see, maybe they´ll see a pattern. I write down what he eats, drinks, how long he sleeps before, after or even on a ´normal´ day. I write down what he´s done, what mood he´s been in, you name it, I write it down."

Jordan can hear the growing anguish and hurt in Sam´s voice and moves to sit down on the bed alongside Sam. "Easy, Sam. We´ll find someone who can help. We´ll get him through this. He and I talked before about the three of us sticking together for a while. Hopefully it´ll be one of the things he remembers, but if not, we´ll just have to remind him."

Just then Dean begins to stir. He turns his head and shifts position beneath the blanket. Sam returns his attention and begins to talk to him, calm and reassuring until his eyes flutter open, then says, "Hey Dean." Sam leans forward to help him move to sit against the end of the bed, but sees sudden panic in his eyes as Dean catches sight of Jordan. "Dean, it´s okay, you´re fine. Nothing happened. It was _just_ a seizure, that´s all. It´s over now and you´re fine, everything is fine. You ready to try leaning here for a minute and then I´ll give you a hand and you can get into bed and rest for a while."

Instead Dean tries to push himself up but Sam catches his arm and stops him, knowing he´s exhausted and can´t possibly manage to fight through Sam´s hold. "Dean, no, just take it slow," but Sam knows that Dean won´t take it slow or easy, not until Sam has helped him.

"Bathroom!" The word is forced out from between his lips as he tries again to get up.

Sam holds him close as he gently helps him to sit, taking advantage of their proximity to say quietly, "You don´t need it, everything´s fine." But Dean won´t be appeased, and so Sam helps him up and into the bathroom. As he leaves, pulling the door to behind him, Sam says, "Two minutes, that´s all I´m giving you, then I´m coming back in."

Jordan speaks for the first time since Dean has woken and Sam jumps as if he´s been so engrossed in dealing with Dean that he had forgotten Jordan was there at all. "What´s that all about, huh?"

Sam just says, "Later, Jordan. Let me get him sorted and into bed, then I can explain. We can talk properly while he sleeps." With that, Sam stands and goes back to the bathroom. He knocks briefly and enters. Not a word is spoken until he has helped Dean out and has him laid down on the bed. Then he says as he removes Dean´s sneakers and pulls the covers over his brother, "How´s your head?"

Dean struggles with his answer of "Not good," and Sam can tell it must be bad for his speech to be so slurred.

"On a scale of 1 to 10?" he asks.

Dean seems to give it a moment´s thought before he replies, "Five, maybe six." Sam rests his hand on Dean´s forehead and thinks that given everything it probably means it´s only just short of being one that has him blind and deaf with pain.

"Just close your eyes, try to get some sleep. Hopefully that will help. It´s too soon for you to take any more meds." He watches as Dean stops fighting to stay awake and closes his eyes. It doesn´t take long for him to fall into a now much needed rest.

They sit in silence for a while, Sam watching Dean sleep, Jordan watching Sam. Eventually Sam stirs himself and turning to Jordan, realises he is being watched. "Sorry," he says, voice quiet so as not to disturb Dean, ´"It´s just..." Jordan shrugs off concern and Sam carries on, "We could talk now, while he´s out."

"Sure, how about I put two chairs outside the door, that way we can keep a check and chat without bothering him."

Sam nods and leans over to adjust the covers over Dean. As he lifts the chairs out, Jordan is struck by how familiar Sam´s gesture is, how like Dean looking after Sam when they were younger. He wonders if Sam remembers that or if it just is ingrained into the Winchesters somehow. He fetches two sodas from the machine just a few doors down and when he returns, Sam has positioned himself so he can watch for any movement from Dean.

As he sits down, Jordan says, "Tell me how bad it really is now? Be honest with me."

Sam looks at him, a wry sad smile passes over his face and he looks back into the room at Dean. He sighs and then he starts to talk quietly, "If he´s awake, I´m awake and if he´s asleep, I´m trying to do the same, regardless of the time of day or where we are, even if it means pulling the car off the road. He doesn´t sleep for long without waking up because he´s in pain or having tremors or seizures or nightmares. When he´s awake, it´s the same - an endless circle of pain, tremors and seizures and him being pissed off. Don´t get me wrong, I understand it, he´s got every right to be angry and I know he´s trying real hard to keep his temper in check but... " he sighs. "...it´s just so hard. He´s a shadow of himself. You know what he´s like, music, flirting, jokes, it´s all gone... all of it and it´s just so hard to be with him like this without any of that... you don´t realise just how many of those annoying little things build up into something you want to keep. I guess that sounds really stupid."

"No Sam, it doesn´t. Like you said, all of that makes him... Dean, I guess and not just some ordinary guy in the street."

"He forgets things... repeatedly; you heard him with the room number, but now just to make it worse, he has started remembering that he´s asked the questions... but he still can´t remember the answer. He´s upset, frustrated!"

"He told me that while we walked. So what did the last set of doctors say? Nothing useful?"

Sam shakes his head. "Nothing, they just made things worse. According to them, it´s all about finding strategies, strategies for coping, for dealing, for overcoming. He needs to re-learn how to live but we walk into those places and they don´t speak to him at all. They poke and prod, send him off for scans and god only knows what tests and when he comes back, they ignore him and talk to me, tell me what _I_ need to do for him. When we get back to the car, he´s so angry, I almost wonder if I´m not just making it all harder for him."

Jordan´s eyes are piercing as he asks, "Do you want to stop looking? _Can_ you two stop looking at this point or...?"

"No, I can´t give up not yet... there´s got to be some sort of answer out there, something that will let him have more than this."

"Tell me more."

"The card in his wallet, it´s one of the strategies they suggested. Information that he needs repeatedly but can´t retain, he is supposed to write down. Colour-coding the tubs was supposed to make it easier. But you know something, I think that half the time he can´t read what´s on that card, he can´t get the lids off the tubs, he struggles to pick up a glass, let alone the actual pills." The pain of watching his brother suffer is clear in Sam´s voice. "We make sets of instructions for carrying out everyday tasks. But he can´t follow them. His co-ordination has gone to pot, his balance is off, he falls when there´s nothing there, he struggles with stairs, yet he insists on carrying his own stuff from the car. He was adamant. I really had to battle with him to let me split his stuff into two bags and he carries one and let´s me take the other. He´s too independent. Hell Jordan, he´s been responsible for me since he was four and now all of a sudden, he can´t do anything for himself."

"What did the doctors say about the seizures?"

"That we just have to keep experimenting until they find something that works, the right medication, the right dose. At the minute nothing seems to be improving it at all. I don´t why I bother with his meds, they´re having no effect at all."

"It might not be doing anything for the seizures but it´s definitely effecting how often he needs to go to the bathroom."

"No it isn´t."

"Seriously Sam it is. He´s been five times since you guys got here. Before we left, at the park, the diner and twice since we got back."

"I know. I mean I know what you mean, what he´s like, but it´s not that. It was the doctors at that last place I took him to. I don´t know what they did. He was undergoing some sort of testing and he had this huge seizure, way worse than the ones he normally has and it was closely followed by another two. Two! He hadn´t properly come round from one before the next started. Anyway, he lost control.. you know what I mean... well when he came round eventually and realised what had happened he was horrified. You can imagine."

"Shit!"

"He´s petrified it´ll happen again. I have to force him to drink because it´s like he´s trying to avoid taking any liquid in. He´s worried enough about having a seizure in public, the thought that..."

"I get it. So how often has it happened?"

"Just that once and he´s up to about six or eight seizures a week now. I don´t get it. You know when he wakes up, he probably won´t remember half of what´s happened today, some of it will come back gradually, but... why does the bad stuff always come back first?"

"Has he remembered what happened yet?"

"No, but he has stopped asking as much, so maybe... I don´t know. He has nightmares that he either won´t or can´t talk about afterwards. I just wonder if that´s what he´s dreaming of." Sam rubs a hand over his face wearily, then looks at Jordan. "Tell me you´ve found something, someone..."

"There is a medical research facility about a half hour from here. They are working on brain stimulation techniques to control epilepsy, they are looking for suitable patients. Maybe Dean would be..."

"We´re not going to have enough money for something like that, not something cutting edge..."

Jordan actually relaxes and smiles at a problem that he knows he can tackle. "We can. That´s the beauty of it; it´s research. they´re looking for willing and suitable patients and so they heavily subsidise the costs. I reckon it´ll be cheaper than some of the other stuff you´ve taken him to."

"But why? How?"

"Because it´s research, it´s not completely tried and tested, there are no guarantees. I mean he might not even be suitable but they have had some fantastic results with some of their patients."

"How much do I need to find?"

"Don´t worry, there´s money to hand."

"Jordan, I appreciate all the help you´ve given us so far, but we can´t..."

Jordan cuts Sam short, "The money is Dean´s."

"Dean hasn´t got any money. Trust me, I know."

"Trust me..."

"Then explain it to me."

"When you called me, when you were with the police and with Dean in hospital, I came down, I got all the stuff I could and sold it: _his_ car, clothes, weapons ... you name it. Anything of _his,_" Jordan almost spits the word out, "I could find anywhere I sold. Hell if the police would have let me, I´d have claimed the body and sold off his body parts, the bastard."

"But... There can´t have been that much."

"Imagine selling off everything in the Impala´s trunk, all the weapons and shit. You´d make a fair amount, well he had more. Dean only has two of things you both need, most stuff he has one, right?"

"Yeah."

"Not him, he liked big, nasty and plenty of it, so I sold the lot. Anyway, I put most of it in a bank account, it´s in my name because it was easier that way but I had you put on as co-signatory. I mean it´s Dean´s money but he´s in no position to do anything with it right now and I took a risk with some of it. It paid off and increased what´s in there. I mean, it doesn´t even begin to cover what that evil bastard should have had to pay but... Anyway I reckon between that and you and I, we can probably cover what we need for Dean for a while and just hope things get better."

Sam is incredulous, "Are you actually serious?"

"Of course. This time, Sam... I just have this feeling, this place is the one."

"You took everything he had and now it´s Dean´s."

"He owes Dean more. He´s never going to pay for what he did now he´s dead, it doesn´t begin to cover the damage he did."

"But you... the money should be yours... you did the work."

"Nah, I got my kicks knowing one of _us_ took him out and that I got to clear the stuff. The guy was twisted, has been for years. First time I met him, he tried to get me on his side. It was not long after my dad died, then all of a sudden, I saw through and knew it, he was the worst a hunter could become, worse even than the drunken fools like my Dad. He was as bad as anything we hunt. He would take out innocent bystanders to ´protect the anonymity of the hunting profession´, he´d look out for young hunters when they were at a low and try to lure them into working him. He´s no loss."

"He tried it on Dean, after Dad..." Sam looks away into the distance, then swallowing changes the subject back to the medical facility, "What´s the downside to this treatment?"

"So far every patient they´ve had has improved but some by only a small amount, so I guess the danger is that for all the work, there´s next to no improvement, or maybe he´ll be the none at all. We´ll have built his hope up for nothing."

"Could he end up worse?"

"It hasn´t happened yet, but I guess anything like this would carry that risk. Look, the other thing is he may not be accepted. I met with a Dr Barker and told him as much as I could and I´ve arranged for him to talk to you tomorrow. I couldn´t answer half of his questions but I said we needed to have some indication of the likelihood of Dean being suitable before we told him, because he´s finding it so hard right now. He´s agreed to meet you tomorrow morning but says you have to take all the information you can, he´ll look it all through and give an idea, but that he needs to meet and work with Dean before he can make a final commitment, but he understands our concerns."

"What am I going to do with Dean, while I´m there?"

"You leave him here with me but now you tell me everything I need to know, do, look out for, whatever. We´ll stay here to make sure nothing goes wrong outside and then you don´t have to worry. You just concentrate on getting all the information you can. We´ll be fine, I´ll look out for him."

"Yeah I know," Sam says, feeling a weight lift from his shoulders as the strain of caring for Dean is shared and new possibilities come into view. The two men continue to talk as they sit maintaining their vigil over the sleeping man.


	9. First meeting

_**Chapter 9 - First Meeting**_

* * *

_**Author's Note:** The medical information in this and subsequent chapters has been researched on the internet and does not reflect any training or personal experience in the field._

* * *

Sam sits in the waiting room anxiously. He thinks of all the waiting rooms they´ve sat in recently, this is the nicest. There are pictures on the wall, magazines on the table, and the walls are not the stark white of many medical facilities they´ve visited. There is a warmth, a reassurance to the little touches, it doesn´t take away his anxiety but somehow it gives the impression that if he brings Dean here, he will be more than just a number or an appointment in a book that needs dealing with.

Suddenly he realises there is a shadow over him and he looks up. "Mr Winchester? Samuel Winchester?"

"Yeah, that´s me," he says leaping to his feet.

The man in front of him smiles, warm and reassuring. "Good to meet you, I´m Dr. Barker, Roger Barker. Would you come through and we can have a chat?"

Sam follows him, hope building in him. This man seems so... human.

"Please take a seat, " he indicates a couple of chairs as he picks up a notebook from his desk and sits down. "I´d like to make a few notes as we go to make sure I don´t miss anything," another smile. "Now it´s your brother that you´re interested in our treatements for, am I right?"

"Yes, my older brother Dean. Dean Winchester. He had an injury to the head and we´re finding it difficult now."

"Right okay. Tell me how old is Dean?"

"29."

"And what happened?"

"He was attacked, beaten around the head with a piece of wood. He was kicked in the ribs, stomach and back. Those injuries are healed really now though."

"As a result of the head injury though, he´s suffering from seizures?"

"Yes."

"Are there other associated problems?"

"Yes, headaches, memory, concentration, co-ordination."

"Do you have any information from his previous doctor?"

"It´s all here, we´ve seen a few different ones," Sam hands over a large folder of information, scan and test results.

The doctor flicks through the pages for a moment then, setting the folder aside, he continues to talk to Sam, "Tell me, from _your_ point of view, what is the worst part of the problem now?"

"Probably the fact that he can´t be alone, it´s not safe for him and the fact that he hates going out in public because he´s afraid of either having a seizure or a headache, but in truth, there´s so much of him that´s changed. It´s like he´s a completely different person."

"Do you think that is the injury and how it has affected his thinking or is it the fear of these seizures?"

"It´s both. He struggles to do things that were easy before, so I guess it´s a combination."

"I see what you´re getting at, Mr Winchester," the doctor continues. "Can I ask you how frequent and severe the seizures are at this point?"

"He´s having them at least every couple of days, they vary in intensity but to me, they seem to be getting worse. He´s also started to have more series of them, so if he has one, he´ll have one or two more in fairly rapid succession."

"That´s worrying. His medication at the moment is?"

"It´s all written here," Sam leans over to flick to the appropriate information in the file.

"Hmmm, you´ve tried quite a few different combinations here and it´s not really improving things significantly or at least it´s not making things manageable at this point. On that evidence it would seem that Dean does need some sort of alternative. Tell me, you said before that Dean struggles to do things that were easy before. Can you give me some specific examples of that? Jordan said the same thing, but you are with him all of the time so I would guess that you could be quite explicit?"

"We´re sticking together for a while now, but yeah, up to now, Jordan has caught up with us as much as he can, but it´s been Dean and I for the most part. Things he struggles with... God, where do I start? Lack of co-ordination and balance, he´s always falling over. He can´t remember new things, like I told him we were coming to see Jordan and by the time we got here, he didn´t know it was why we´d come or we had to tell him three times which motel room number we were in. Sometimes it´s like he´s reading something but not understanding what it means. He knocks into things, can´t pick things up, misses you know, not all the time, but..."

"Often enough, that it is significant _and _a problem, yes?"

"Yes." Sam feels himself relaxing in the presence of a doctor who was asking about so much, who seemed to understand the frustrations at the small things as much as the large, who didn´t seem to be interested in getting him out of the door as quickly as possible. "He gets these headaches, they´re awful. He´s in excruciating pain."

"How does he describe it?"

"He doesn´t. He´ll fall to the ground, clutching his head. He´ll even hit his head as if he´s trying to stop something inside, but he doesn´t seem to know what he´s doing, what´s happening. He won´t know where we are or that I´m with him. There´s no warning for most of them, although often if there´s a loud noise, like a siren or a smoke alarm or sometimes even a phone ring, that seems to start some, although some of his seizures start just after that sort of thing too, so I... I guess I don´t really know."

"When he gets a headache like this, what do you do?"

"Keep him still, give him the stuff the last doctor said, but that´s virtually impossible and then get him laid down so he can sleep it off."

"Where´s the list you showed me? Aah, here it is. This says he takes that in tablet form. Is that right?"

"Yes."

"How do you get him to take them?"

"It's horrible." The doctor sees Sam shudder.

"Tell me, please."

"I force them into his mouth and pour water into his mouth, so he swallows, but he gags and chokes. I can´t keep doing it to him!"

"Has anyone suggested using an injectable form of the same drug? Are you worried about giving him an injection?"

"NO! Do you think I´d be doing this if..."

"Right Samuel."

"Sam."

"Sam, I´m going to make you a promise. I will look through all of this properly," he taps the wodge of papers, " and if we cannot offer Dean help using our treatments, I will go through with you the alternatives that are open to you, both in terms of drug therapy and other surgical options because quite clearly the current care program is unsatisfactory. The most recent scans were... how long ago?"

"Not quite two months."

The doctor pulled the scans from the folder and standing with them, moved closer to Sam. "What suggestions for treatment were made after these?"

"Just to adjust the medication to what it is now?"

"Has anyone suggested taking action for hippocampal sclerosis?"

Sam´s blank look gives him all the answer he needs. "Can I explain it to you in that case?" At Sam´s nod, he continues, using the scan in his hand to illustrate his explanation, "These areas here are scar tissue, hippocampal sclerosis. You can see they are quite dominant, not surprising given the nature of his injuries, but even so, not good having it there. Now I need to go through more of this information but if we can help your brother we would first need to deal with this. At this point, and I remind you I´ve not met your brother or had time to peruse all the information, but I would guess this is impeding his recovery. Has anyone suggested any treatment other than drug therapy to control the pain and seizures?"

"No, not at all."

"You are not aware of the more traditional forms of surgery?"

"No."

"There are two main forms of surgery used to attempt to relieve the situation for people who are suffering with seizures that are difficult to control or resistant to drugs. Currently it would appear that Dean could fit in the category. The oldest form of surgery is known as Corpus Callostomy and involves separating the two halves of the brain. What that does is prevent electrical surges passing back and forth as part of a seizure."

"Doesn´t information pass back and forth, would it stop that too?"

"It would make that more difficult, although people learn to adapt. Unfortunately it is very difficult with this type of injury, it is quite possible that nothing will fix everything. In cases of severe seizures it can be a matter of making life more manageable but never easy. Anyway that is the oldest form of surgical treatment. A newer form is Vagus Nerve Stimulation. That involves placing an implant on the left vagus nerve in the neck. The implant will send a preset pulse of electrical activity into the brain. This can help control the seizures."

"Does it work?"

"For some patients without a doubt. There are associated risks involved with the effect it can have on heart rate and blood pressure but generally speaking it´s been known to work quite well."

"And you are trying something else?"

"Correct. Our work is with a Responsive Neuro-Stimulator System or RNS. Again it involves an implant, although this time it is under the scalp with leads from it to the brain surface and in some cases into the brain itself. Unlike the VNS, this only emits a pulse when the brain´s activity indicates the onset of a seizure, thereby forestalling it, we hope."

"And you´ve been successful with this?"

"Yes, so far our success rate has been good. All of our patients have seen an improvement in their conditions. The degree of improvement has varied. A lot of other factors come into play. Most significantly the other damage caused previously to the brain by either injury or by the number and severity of the seizures."

"Would you expect Dean to make a decision on this or can I?"

"If, Sam, if your brother is suitable, we would expect you both to be involved in the decision making. I'm guessing that you´re thinking at the current time Dean would not be up to all the technical jargon I´ve thrown at you?"

"I´m thinking you´ve simplified it for me to understand but it is still going to be beyond him. He wasn´t stupid, but he´ll have forgotten the first one before you start on the second."

"We are used to dealing with people who are having processing difficulties. We can explain and take the time so he understands and we are not going to be offering multiple choices. If you feel you want to look further into corpus callostomy or VNS, I will find you the details of some highly respected doctors in those fields, but our area is RNS only."

"Would you look through his stuff and be able to decide?"

"I can look through and get an idea in 24 hours. I would need, if that looks possible, then to talk to Dean. Following an initial consult, I would need to do further work with him to get a real feel for the situation. At that point, we would all need to make a decision, yourself and Dean as to whether you wished to continue with our program of treatment and ourselves as to whether Dean would be a suitable candidate. At that point we would admit Dean and begin an intensive regime which would reduce the meds he is currently taking, so we can judge exactly what´s happening to him before we operate. It will also help us find out if any of his cognitive problems are caused or aggravated by the meds he´s on right now. We would need a commitment from him fairly long-term as we will monitor what the effects are of this treatment, not just as a short-term fix but as a life-long answer."

"You'll be able to give me an idea in 24 hours though?"

"Yes, 24 hours with his notes and I´ll get back to you with my initial thoughts. What we could do is set up a provisional meeting for Dean and I for the day after tomorrow and I'll look through the notes between now and this time tomorrow and I´ll let you know whether it´s worth bringing him out then. I know I´m being cautious here. My initial feeling is hopeful, but there are a lot of factors involved. If we can´t help your brother, I would be more than happy for you to come out to that meeting and I will spend time with you discussing where else you might find good help for Dean, what other treatments and therapies are available. To be quite honest with you, Sam, the fact that you have been left to treat what you are describing as headaches, but sound like quite extreme migraines, by forcing tablets and water down his throat is unsatisfactory. It´s dangerous and the chances of him choking eventually are high."

"I know, I hate it but..."

"I´m not surprised. There are better ways of treating it and I _will_ help you find them if we can´t help you. I promise you that much."

"Thank you. I have one more question."

"Go on."

"If you agree to treat Dean, how much money do Jordan and I need to come up with?"

"I won´t be able to give you an exact figure for that because it will depend on his recovery rate and things like what extra rehabilitation we can provide access to. We might be able to give you access to people who can help with other areas, so he learns new strategies for coping with his life and so on, but what I´ll do is get an outline of the sort of things you might expect. How does that sound?"

"Thank you. Thanks for agreeing to look through it all and consider him. I look forward to hearing from you."

"Tomorrow lunch time, Sam. Do you have a contact number where I can reach you?"

"Yeah, it´s on the front of the folder. Ummm.."

"Something else? Go ahead..."

"I have this," Sam holds out a journal, " I mean it´s probably no use to you, but I write down all sorts, everything I can think of.. what he eats, drinks, when he has seizures, headaches, migraines, how much he sleeps, what mood he is in, problems we´re struggling with... I don´t know how to describe it." He feels embarrassed. This doctor has already spent more time explaining possible treatments than any of the others so far and he hasn´t even agreed to take Dean as a patient yet. Dr Barker has already promised to help them find their way through the medical mire that is out there and here is Sam offering him a run-down of their days like it´s going to be any use.

But Dr Barker accepts the journal saying, "Thank you. What I´ll do is start with all of this, " he indicates the medical file, " because from that I will get the best indication of whether physically I can offer Dean help. I´ll then get back to you at lunch tomorrow. Following that I´ll go through this because it will either help me when I come to speak to Dean or it will help me provide advice to you on what areas you and Dean would be best to tackle first or even which facilities might be most suitable. It´s good that you´ve done this. It will be helpful."

Sam lets out a sigh of relief.

The Doctor smiles again and says, "Don´t ever worry here that you have asked the wrong question or done the wrong thing. This sort of thing really helps in actual fact. Now don´t forget to make an appointment for the day after tomorrow. My secretary will help with that - she keeps me in line and on time. I´d be lost without her."

"Thanks for your time."

"No problem. I´ll speak to you tomorrow."


	10. This life is hard work

_**Chapter 10 - This life is hard work**_

Sam opens the door to the motel room quietly, in case Dean is sleeping. What he actually sees is Dean and Jordan sitting at the table. In front of them are a pile of coins and scraps of paper. He looks to see what is written on the paper and recognises monetary values. Sam watches as Dean struggles to make the latest value and realises he hasn´t seen Dean handle money properly in months. He hasn´t paid for anything that Sam hasn´t given him enough money to cover since before the accident.

He stays silent and watches, seeing Dean concentrating so hard to get the coins he needs. Jordan has nodded acknowledgement of his arrival but has said nothing that might distract Dean.

As soon as Dean has successfully finished the calculation, Jordan says, "Great, let´s finish there, now Sam´s back." Dean looks over at Sam. "So dude, your turn to feed us all, up off your ass and get going. Sam´s putting his feet up and I´m making coffee. Come on." Jordan stands and offers Dean support as he gets up, support that Sam is pleased to see him accept.

"I don´t want coffee," Dean says quietly. Sam watches as he picks up a piece of paper and takes it with him to the kitchenette. He puts the paper down on the counter and Sam sees him carefully position a chopstick over it.

"So if you don´t want coffee, what's it to be, soda or water?" Jordan´s voice carries through to Sam.

"Yes," is the answer that Dean gives as he lays out slices of bread and, making frequent looks back at the paper, begins to add ingredients to each, adjusting the position of the chopstick after each. Jordan looks at him as if expecting to find that Dean is joking. Realising he isn´t and that he is in fact focused intently on the task he is undertaking, Jordan turns and gives Sam a wry grin and shrug of the shoulders.

Sam says, "It doesn't matter which, but he´s staying caffeine free for now."

Putting three sodas on the table, Jordan sits down beside Sam. The two of them watch Dean as he studies the piece of paper then proceeds to add something else to each sandwich. "Everything go okay?" Jordan asks, keeping his voice low so as not to distract Dean.

Sam nods, "Yeah, he´s going to get back to me tomorrow lunch. I hope he says yes because he´s the best I´ve met yet."

"Fingers crossed then." Jordan stands up and moves across to Dean´s side, aware of a growing frustration. He has watched as each sandwich was completed and saw Dean pick up the knife and lay it across each sandwich as if to cut it but each time he has removed and repositioned it unhappy. "Dean?" he says, hoping to avert the frustration.

Dean looks at him, aware now that his struggle has been observed. Dean drops the knife with a clatter onto the counter and heads for a seat saying, "You finish it, my head hurts." He slumps into the chair Jordan has just left.

Sam reaches for his arm, saying "Are you okay? Can you manage without your pills until you´ve eaten?"

"I´m an idiot," his voice is a mix of anger and disappointment. "I can´t even make a sandwich."

"You did fine," says Jordan, placing a plate in front of both Winchesters, "So eat this and stop sulking. Listen up, you made the list, you followed the list, you made the sandwich. It worked; you did what you set out to do. Next time it will be easier."

The anger in Dean´s voice grows, "Tell me someone else who is stupid enough to need a fucking list of instructions to make a sandwich."

Jordan sits on the other side of him and says plainly, "Someone else who has had a head injury like yours. Now, where´s the list?" Dean pushes the list dejectedly across the table. "Take a good look at that sandwich, Dean, because you are making lunch again tomorrow." He looks down to the bottom of the list for the final instruction and picking up the pen he´d been using earlier, he draws a picture alongside showing a sandwich with a knife positioned to cut. "Tomorrow, that´s what you do, right? And if you can´t get it, I´ll help. Besides so long as the sandwich fits in your mouth, it doesn´t actually matter how you cut it."

Sam smiles as he sees a little of the tension go from Dean´s face. He pushes an open soda can over to Dean, before picking up and taking a bite of his own sandwich. Dean eats half of his sandwich before he pushes the plate away. Sam has watched him all the time they´ve been eating and he´s well aware that Dean hasn´t even touched the soda. He frowns, knowing he´s going to have to say something, not wanting another battle.

Just then Sam hears Jordan cough and sees Dean look up at Jordan. "So Dean, are you planning on adding kidney damage to your current list of problems? Have you decided you´ve not got enough on your plate?"

The look Dean gives Jordan is a mixture of annoyance and confusion. He knows Jordan is having a go at him, but he isn´t sure what it´s about. Jordan lifts his own can and with wide eyes, gives a very obvious slurp of his soda before replacing his can on the table.

Shock registers first on Dean´s face, then he turns away, picks up his can and takes a drink. Jordan grins and takes another loud slurp. Dean takes another drink then puts the can down. Sam´s head is down so his gaze is fixed on the table in front of him, but his mouth is spread in a grin that matches Jordan´s.

Dean lifts the can and drinks a third time without prompting. Sam can feel a weight lifting, he´s been so tired, he´s struggled more and more to deal with Dean´s frustration and temper, but sitting here like this, he knows that sharing the load with Jordan, being able to deflect some of the anger will help him cope as much as it will help Dean. Dean has become so afraid of something going wrong that he has retreated from trying anything, but whatever conversation has gone on through the morning while Sam has been out, has resulted in Dean attempting things he hasn´t done since he failed at them in the earliest days after his release from hospital.


	11. I'm trying to explain this to you

_**Chapter 11 – I'm trying to explain this to you.**_

Dean is sitting on his bed, staring vaguely in the direction of the TV but Sam is pretty sure he's not actually watching it as he crosses the room to sit in front of his brother. "Dean, I want to talk to you about something. Can we talk now?"

"Sam?" Dean's voice is anxious, "Sam, my head hurts. What's wrong with me?"

Sam reaches out to rest a hand on Dean's forehead as if he could take some of the pain away. "You got hurt, Dean, but we're going to try and fix it."

Dean draws his knees up and begins to rock, hands coming up to clench at his head. "It hurts... all the time, it hurts," his voice is almost sobbing.

Sam feels himself choking up with the pain his brother is enduring, "Oh God!"

"Why me? Why does it hurt like this?" and Sam can't ever think of a reason why Dean should be suffering like this.

Instead he grasps Dean's shoulders and pulls him close, "You want your pills for your head?" he asks, even as he feels the first tell-tale spasms of a seizure course through his brother. "Dean, lie down for me, please," but it's too late as Dean's body jerks backward violently. Sam barely manages to stop his head colliding with the wall, before forcing his body down the bed and into the recovery position and then waits for it to be over with tears on checks, "I'm so sorry, Dean, it should never have come to this."

Dean's body eventually relaxes and Sam strokes his cheek, "I've been talking to a doctor, Dean," he says even though his brother can't hear him "…and I can't bear this. I can't watch you suffer like this... so we're going to try his treatment. I know I should ask you, I know I should give you a choice but I'm sorry I can't take the risk that you'll say no. If it works, it'll stop the seizures and maybe the headaches too. We can work round the rest, Dean. We can find a way to get by, but you shouldn't have to be in this much pain."

Dean begins to stir and Sam keeps a hand on his arm as his eyes open. Sam sees the anxiety and confusion in his eyes and says quietly, "It's okay, Dean. I'm here with you?"

"Where? What happened?" the words are barely there as he struggles to speak.

"We're in the motel, just us, Jordan's out. You had a seizure but it's over now." He feels as Dean begins to try and move. "No. You need to rest, there's no reason to move. Trust me, Dean, everything's fine." It takes time to convince him but eventually Sam manages to get Dean settled and asleep again.

When Jordan returns half an hour later, Sam hasn't moved from his place on the edge of Dean's bed. Jordan can see the pain in Sam's eyes. "You told him and he didn't take it well then?"

"No... I never got to tell him, he had another seizure. It was bad, he nearly banged his head against the wall. If I hadn't been next to him... he can't carry on like this Jay, I can't give him a choice. We can learn to live with the rest but not this... not like this..." Sam feels as Jordan clenches his shoulder in support.

* * *

The room is dark, but for the passing lights of intermittent cars on the road outside. The room is quiet with nothing to interrupt the even breathing of the three sleeping men. Sometime in the early hours of the morning, the man in the middle bed stirs. He gradually wakens and in doing so, moves himself to the edge of the bed and swings his feet round to the floor. He feels the usual dizziness strike as he sits up and so he waits for it to pass with his head resting in his hands. 

As he feels control returning, Dean slowly stands, one hand against the wall in support. He is just about to make his way round the bed to the bathroom, when a car passes on the road outside. The glare of the headlights pierces the gap in the curtains flaring full into his face casting it in stark relief.

Dean cries out in pain as the light sends stabbing pains deep into his head. He falls to the floor, clutching at his head, already beginning to rock back and forth in agony.

Sam and Jordan both awaken at his cry. Sam is rapidly at Dean's side, trying to still the movement. Jordan reaches standing, knife clutched in one hand looking for an unknown threat. Realising there is nothing but the three of them in the room, his knife hand drops and he looks down on the scene playing out at his feet.

The glare of another car passing illuminates the brothers as Dean moans in pain again and begins to hit his own forehead, even as Sam drags him away from the light before trying to still him, saying, "Ssshhh, Dean, it's okay."

Jordan kneels beside them, horrified by the pain he sees on Dean's face. "Sam, there must be something..."

"The yellow tub and the water!" Jordan has snatched both from the table almost before Sam has finished speaking. Jordan then takes hold of Dean's arms leaving Sam to give him the pills and force down the water until he swallows. As Dean coughs and tries to turn his head away, Sam pleads, "Come on Dean, you can do it."

The room lights again as another car passes and a sound that is almost a sob escapes Dean's lips. Sam draws him back into his own arms and waits for the pain to ease. Minutes later, he helps Dean to the bathroom.

When they return, Sam sits Dean on the edge of the bed with his back to the window. He sits alongside, and looking down at his own hands twisting in his lap, he says, "I need to tell you something Dean." He gets no reaction, as his brother remains passive beside him. "I've found a new doctor, I've talked to him. We're going to see him tomorrow. He might be able to help."

Sam watches now but there is still no response. Taking hold of Dean's chin, he turns his brother's face toward him, "Dean, are you listening to me? Dean!"

"Sam, it's too late. Just let him sleep, explain in the morning. Those pills have kicked in, he doesn't know what you're saying." Jordan's hand rests on Sam's shoulder. "I know it's hard, but come on, we should all get some sleep."

"I guess," Sam says as he gently pushes his brother to lie down, back to the window. Jordan tries to fix the gap between the curtains as Sam pulls the covers over Dean.

Sam moves back to his own bed and is just sitting down when Dean whispers, "Sam!" He sees Dean's eyes are open and he moves back again to his side.

"It's okay Dean. Just go to sleep now." Sam stays by his side until he is asleep again then returns to his own bed.


	12. I think it's time we moved

_**Chapter 12 - I think it's time we moved**_

Dean has both of his bags side by side on his bed and is carefully packing his belongings into them. He takes his time folding each item. He knows he used to be able to do it quicker, used to be sure he was doing it right but right now, he's just persisting. Jordan reminded him yesterday that he shouldn't get stressed by the little things and Dean figures packing his bags ought to be a little thing. He takes a deep breath and bites his lip before starting over with his attempt to fold the t-shirt.

Jordan also said that Sam wouldn't want him to give up on doing things just because he was finding them difficult, that retreating behind walls wasn't being fair on Sam. In fact, by the time Jordan had finished, Dean had been feeling more than a little guilty about the way he's been behaving and how it must be making Sam feel, but again Jordan had something to say, insisting that everything he tried to do on his own or tried to learn how to do again would make Sam proud. Dean had elicited a promise from Jordan at that point that he would help him learn how to do everything again because Dean had had enough of being a burden to his little brother and if expecting his brother to sit with him for hour after hour whilst he remastered _every_ basic task wasn't being a burden, he didn't know what was.

For the minute he's determined to do this task alone, without help from either his brother or his friend. He has almost finished packing when he hears the shower turn off. Sam will be out soon, so he needs to get a move on or he'll be keeping Sam waiting again. Dean had tried to think carefully about Jordan's words, while Sam and Jordan had been chatting and watching TV last night. He figures that if he gets Jordan to help him with stuff like the sandwich making and the money, Sam can have some time to himself and then maybe he doesn't need to worry quite so much about all the other things he has to ask Sam to help him with, all the mornings when the shakes in his arm and hand are so bad that he needs Sam to help him shave or when he feels so unsafe in his own body that he's too frightened to even take a shower without someone sitting in the bathroom ready to catch him when the control goes, because if there's one thing Dean can be sure of it's that the control will go. Every day in a thousand ways, he's reminded of how he is supposed to protect Sam and how he's failing and maybe it's him that Sam needs protecting from, his uselessness, his incompetence, his complete inability to be normal. If Jordan's here, he won't let Sam come to any harm and Dean can work on getting better, so everything is right again.

The outside door opens behind him and Jordan comes in laden with groceries. "Hey Dean," he says as he moves to put the shopping down on the table. Turning round, he looks at Dean packing his bag and moving to his side, he says, "Dean, what are you doing?"

"I'm packing. Sam will be ready soon."

"Why are you packing?"

"We've got to move."

Jordan's heard enough; he puts an arm out to stop him, "Dean, sit down a minute. I want to talk to you."

"I need to finish getting ready. Sam is always waiting; I can be ready this time."

"Dean, I'll help you if you need after but just now I need to talk to you about something."

"Oh!" Jordan takes the t-shirt from his hands and drops it on the bed, then turns Dean to sit down.

As he sits beside Dean, Jordan asks, "why are you packing, Dean?"

"We've got to move, we can't stay here."

"No Dean. You and Sam are staying here with me for a while, do you remember?"

"No, that's not right," Dean sounds panicky. "We have to move... have to..." his voice trails off.

Jordan stays calm. "Dean, it's okay. Tell me why do you think you've got to move?"

Dean starts to rise, but Jordan's hand on his arm stills him and he says, "I don't know, I... I can't remember... we move... we have to move... Dad... Dad wants us... but Dad's not here..."

"Dean, listen okay? Just hear me out. Your Dad used to want you to move but sometimes you used to stay in one place so you and Sam could go to school. Do you remember that?" When Dean nods, he continues, "This is like that. Sam wants you both to stay here with me for a while."

Dean sounds confused as he says, "But Sam doesn't go to school anymore."

Jordan agrees with him, "That's right, it isn't school. It's just like that. Sam and I, we need to be here for a while with you."

The bathroom door opens and Sam comes out. Taking in Dean's almost packed bags and Dean and Jordan sitting on the bed, he feels his anxiety levels rise. He can't have Dean packing to leave now, not when he's got the appointment with Dr Barker for later in the morning. "Is everything okay?" he asks, trying to keep the anxiety out of his voice.

Jordan answers, "Sure, we are. Eh, Dean?"

Sam looks at his brother, "Dean?"

Dean sounds slightly hesitant as he replies, "You... you want to stay here... for a while."

"Yeah I do." Sam can feel himself relaxing. "It would be good if we could, Dean."

"For a while, no moving, just staying here."

"Yeah, Dean, that's right. How are you feeling this morning?"

"Shaky, my head... it's hard to ... think... remember."

Sam sits facing Dean and Jordan, "Does it hurt?" he asks. "Do you need something for it?" He asks the question, even as he casts a prayer heavenward that Dean can manage without. He doesn't want to take Dean out to see the doctor under the influence of the extra drugs, unless he has to.

"No... I can manage," Dean replies to Sam's relief.

"Dean, I talked to you about something important last night. Do you remember?" As Sam asks the question, Jordan indicates his intention to leave and give them some space.

"No... No I don't... I've forgotten... I'm sorry, Sam."

"No, it's fine, you were tired, it wasn't a good time to tell you. I'll tell you now. There's a doctor near here. I've met him and talked to him and he might be able to help you. I've arranged for us to go out there today, so you can meet him and the two of you can talk."

"Are you coming?"

"I'll come out but he'll want to talk to you."

"No! I can't!" Sam is surprised at just how vehement Dean is and reaches out to calm him, moving from sitting opposite Dean to the spot Jordan had vacated earlier.

"Why can't you talk to him, Dean? That's all just talk," he pries gently.

"I can't... I don't know what he'll say. I won't know the answers. What if I get it wrong?"

"Dean, if you don't know the answer, just say, it won't matter. He'll understand."

"He'll think I'm stupid. I am stupid. Sam, I don't even remember what happened to me."

Sam feels his gut wrenching with his brother's anguish, but he keeps the emotion out of his voice as he replies, "Dean, he'll understand, I promise. He won't think you're stupid at all. He might be able to help. He just needs to find out about you. Dean, he might be able to help you so you don't have as many seizures."

"I want them to stop," Dean's voice is sad, weary, but almost resigned to not getting what he wants.

"So do I. That's why _I_ need you to talk to him, need you to see if he can help you. Will you do it, please?"

"Yes," Dean's eyes track away as he answers, granting what Sam wants, as if it's the only thing he can do but not expecting anything good to come of it.

Sam stands up and offers a supporting hand to Dean as he says, "Come on, let's get sorted." Dean doesn't move. "Come on, Dean," is still met with no response. He sits down again, "Dean, what is it?"

Sam barely catches the words, as Dean asks, "What happened to me?"

Sam shudders at the memory of the piece of wood bearing down on Dean's head, the boot plunging into his ribs. "Dean, not now. We'll talk about it later; let's just see the doctor, please. We can talk later."

Dean's eyes come up to meet Sam's, agitated and anxious, "But what if he asks Sam? What if he asks and I can't tell him?"

This Sam can deal with, he sighs. "Dean I've told him all he needs to know about what happened so that won't matter. Dean, he's a doctor, he deals with people who are having difficulties like this, he'll understand if you don't remember. It won't matter."

"Why does he want to talk to me? The others, they all talked to you, _they_ know you can answer them. I'm too stupid now. I didn't used to be this stupid." Sam can hear his frustration at how difficult his life has become.

"Dean, no! You weren't stupid before, but you're not stupid now either. It's just... difficult... since you got hurt, it's difficult. I promise, we're going to find ways to make it easier. Now please, can we go to see this doctor?"

Dean rises slowly and Sam stands beside him. "I need to shower," he says and Sam nods. "I shouldn't have packed; we're staying here for a while." Sam nods again. He moves to the bathroom door, turning back before he goes in. "Sam?" Sam looks up at him before he continues, "You staying here?"

"Now, yeah. Why?"

"I feel... shaky. Will you stay... in case?"

"I'll be right here. I'll wait for you. Unless you want me to come in...?" Dean barely shakes his head, tempted to take Sam up on the offer before he turns back into the bathroom closing the door behind him. Sam turns to put Dean's stuff back in its usual place.


	13. Second meeting

**_Chapter 13 - Second Meeting_**

* * *

_**Author's Note:** this is a long chapter... you have been warned!_

* * *

This time all three men are seated in the waiting room. Sam and Jordan flank Dean like hulking bodyguards, Sam suddenly realises. It would never have looked like that before, Dean never used to look so in need of protecting. His bearing has changed utterly since the attack and he sits between them like he's afraid of the world. Yet he is still and neither of the other two is. Both find themselves at various times bringing to rest jogging knees or tapping hands, anxiety radiating wildly. The secretary has looked across at the three of them a few times, smiled and nodded encouragement but it hasn't really made a difference. 

Only Dean remains passive as the door opens and Dr Barker walks in. With a nod to his secretary, he walks straight over to the waiting trio. "Good to see you all, Jordan, Sam." He shakes hands with both then turns to the still seated Dean. "So Dean, right? It's good to finally meet you." He offers his hand, watches as Sam nudges him, sees as Jordan puts a hand under his elbow as he rises, as his face shows the discomfort the rise causes. He sees Dean finally move his hand to shake his, moves his hand to make sure they meet, "I'm glad you could come out today."

"Yes," is the only answer Dean gives.

Sam jumps in to fill the gap, "We're glad you could see us, fit us in, aren't we Dean?"

Dr Barker smiles at Sam, calm, reassuring, before turning all of his attention back to Dean, "I'm Dr Barker and I would like you to come and have a chat with me for a few minutes. Is that okay?"

He watches as Dean turns to Sam to find out if it is okay. It's the look on Jordan's face that tells him just how out of character this is or would have been before the injury. When Sam nods, Dean says, "Yes" and takes a step away from the two towers of strength beside him. They have gone a few steps when the sounds of seats shifting as the other two sit down again, has Dean turning. "Sam?"

Dr Barker says, "Dean, I want to talk to just you for a few minutes. _We'll_ talk with Sam later. Come on, Sam will wait here for now."

But Dean remains stationary, "But..." he says.

"Yes, Dean? But what?" For Dr. Barker even this is enlightening. Once he's moved Dean away from the other two, he has realised just how tall he is, how muscular he would have been before the attack, how much he must have changed. He has an idea of why the other two are so protective, so like barely contained guard dogs. This is not the Dean they know or understand.

"What if..." Dean comes to a halt, still unable to finish, but the Doctor, holding up a hand to the others to keep them quiet, just waits for Dean to continue, "I... I need Sam... I don't remember everything."

"Dean, it doesn't matter. We'll talk and if we can't work it out, we can ask Sam later." The doctor's voice is calm and reassuring, but his expression shows his deep consideration of Dean's reaction and the fact that Dean is no more at ease now, leads him to add, "What is it, Dean? There's something else worrying you. Let us know, let us sort it out."

"What if I..." he looks up at the doctor, then over to Sam."Sam has my pills."

"That's fine, Sam's going to stay right here, I'm sure, so if we need them, we'll give him a shout, but we'll be fine."

"But last time... last time... I don't want ..." Dean's voice trails away again as he chews his lip anxiously.

Sam gasps, "Last time" as he realises exactly what Dean is worried about. He pushes Jordan towards the doctor, saying, "The last doctor... tell him," and sees realisation dawn on Jordan's face.

So as Jordan takes the doctor on one side saying, "Dr Barker, can I just speak to you for a minute..." Sam is drawing Dean by the arm towards him.

Once he's sure he's got Dean's full attention, Sam says, "Dean, there are no tests okay? He just wants to talk to you, that's all. No tests. There is no reason for it to happen again, you'll be fine."

"But I might..."

"There's no reason, even if you did have a seizure, for it to be any different to any seizure you have with me, and Dean, he's a doctor, he can look after you better than I can, but it's just a chat Dean, it's fine." Sam feels his desperation growing as he tries to convince Dean to go.

Dr Barker approaches and hears the end of what Sam says. Resting a hand on Dean's shoulder he says, "Sam's right, Dean, it's just a chat, no tests but I'm going to bring your pills with us if that makes you feel easier." He holds his free hand out and Sam places the six tubs there, figuring it's easier to hand them all over than try to work out which Dean might need while he's gone. Dean watches then makes the first eye-contact with the Doctor and nods agreement. The doctor takes the hand from Dean's shoulder and holds it out to show the way to his office. "We'll be back shortly," he says before following Dean.

Dr Barker watches as Dean puts his right hand out as if checking where the door frame is as he enters the room. "Take a seat, Dean." He waits until Dean is seated and then rather than going to the other side of his desk, he takes the seat alongside. He puts the tubs onto the desk where Dean can see them, then sits back and says, "Now I don't want you to worry. We are just going to chat. I'm going to ask you some questions and I think you'll be fine to answer them but if you can't, it doesn't matter and if it's important we'll ask Sam later. If you think of anything you want to talk about, just say." Dean nods and waits. "Okay, let's start with how you're feeling this morning."

"I was worried."

"And now?"

"A bit."

"Fair enough. How about your head?"

"It hurts, but it hurts all the time. It's not too bad right now..." He suddenly looks up and says urgently, "Don't tell Sam."

"Why not, Dean? What can't we tell Sam?"

"He mustn't know, not that it hurts all the time. He'll just worry. He worries too much already."

"I think he already knows but in case he doesn't, we'll leave it at that. Let's talk about what happens when your head is bad. What do you do then?"

"I..." he looks confused. "I don't know. It hurts so much, I can't think. I can't see. It's like there's no-one and nothing else there, just me and the pain."

"Does Sam help you?"

"I guess. I think so... he must do, he's there when they've gone. I hear his voice sometimes, I wake up and he's near me."

"Does that help knowing Sam is there?"

"But he shouldn't have to be there. Sam shouldn't have to look after me so much, it's not right."

The doctor nods, then asks, "Dean, of all the things that happen to you now, what is the worst aspect?"

"The seizures."

"Tell me about them."

"They hurt, I can't control what's happening to me, I fall and... and... I don't know what else to say."

"Does falling worry you a lot?"

"Sam... Sam worries that I'll bang my head but it's not just the falling, it's the whole thing. I don't ..." Dean sighs, before continuing, "I don't want people to see me like this."

"People like Sam, or other people?"

"Not Sam, I mean... I don't like Sam seeing but he's Sam. He's seen me drunk, sick, hurt, he knows me. But other people, what will they think? And after when it's finished, I can't remember things, like I don't know where I am or what I was doing, sometimes the words I say don't come out right."

"Do you go out on your own now?"

"No."

"Because of the seizures?"

"And the headaches, and I get lost, I don't remember where we are staying or which way I walked."

"So you only go out when you're with Sam?"

"Or Jordan."

"Not on your own, even to somewhere close,"

"They know which pills I need."

"Do you know which pills you need?"

"Sometimes, but I get confused a lot."

"How do you think you could overcome that?" Dr Barker is pleased with the honesty with which Dean is answering after his initial reluctance to coming through on his own to the office. After the first meeting with Sam, he had spent a considerable amount of time, poring through the reports, scans and results. He'd been amazed at the degree of injury and at the fact that Sam was saying Dean had fought his way back to walking and talking, yet despite that there was little evidence in any of the paperwork of Dean being able to have a conversation at any level with his previous doctors, yet today he was answering all he was being asked, a definite paradox. He'd realised that in many respects Dean was an ideal candidate for their study. He was young, he'd been fit and healthy prior to his injury and to an extent still was, he was clearly someone who would fight for recovery, he hadn't just given up, and he hadn't had a good response so far to the traditional drug therapies. Dr Barker also had some major reservations. Dean had been to see so many different doctors, he wondered if any had had a chance to really get to know him and persist with tracking a therapy that would work for him, would he and his brother move on before the research was through, before they'd had a chance to work on rehabilitation with him. The other consideration of course, was the amount of damage done, the scar tissue was horrendous, it was no wonder the poor lad was in pain. He desperately wanted to be able to help the man in front of him.

All the while he's been thinking, he's watched as Dean has removed his wallet and taken a paper out of it, handing it over. "I have this," Dean says. Dr Barker examines it, a piece of paper with meals on one side and colours written alongside and on the other a list of symptoms and other colours. Glancing at the tubs on the table, he realises it is a very simple way of identifying which pills when.

"It's a good idea. Does it help?"

"Jordan had to make it simpler for me, but now it works most of the time," There is an unhealthy undertone of disgust to his voice.

"What did Jordan do to it?"

"More space, less words." He can hear definite disgust. It's another clue to the damage done. None of the three men had looked particularly the bookish type; Sam on their first meeting had been smart but not formal. Today, he was dressed more casually as if the priority had been to keep Dean comfortable rather than worrying about impressing the new doctor.

"You're finding it hard to read now," he says plainly. As Dean indicates agreement with the statement, he asks, "Did you used to read a lot?"

"For my job, yeah."

"Your job? Can I ask what you did?"

"We all did the same kind of thing. Investigations, kind of. Someone would contact us with a problem they needed help with. We would look into the problem, find the history of it and then try to find a similar problem and how it had been sorted out. I used to spend a lot of time in libraries and archives."

So there is his answer, no wonder the disgust, Dean had gone from ploughing through weighty tomes to struggling with six words on a page. A brutal attack and now wasted potential, but if he can convince the brothers to stick around, maybe he can help Dean retrieve some of that potential. The other interesting fact he's noticed is that talking about the more distant past, Dean sounds different, his responses are more extensive, complete, less of a struggle for him to form.

"Dean, you said the paper works most times, but not always right?" As Dean agrees, he continues, "Is that why you don't stay on your own?"

"No. Even when I know which one I need, I can't always pick up the tubs or the pills. I can't get the lids off."

"Okay, let's have a look at the tubs. Move closer to the desk for me, please." Dean stands slowly, moves behind the chair, pushes it nearer and then sits back down. Dr Barker pulls his own chair closer and then says, "That's great, Dean. Now I want you to stand the tubs in a line with the colours on the top."

Dean reaches forward to the tub on the far left, lifts it carefully and stands it up the right way. He then selects the next along and is just about to set it down next to the first, when he stops and turning to the doctor says anxiously, "Which colour did you say first?"

"I didn't. It doesn't matter which order."

"I didn't forget," he says quietly as he sets down the second tub and moves to the third. He keeps going until he has five tubs neatly spaced in a line. He sits back in his chair.

"Have you finished?" asks Dr Barker.

"Yeah," he says sounding quite relieved.

"Sure? How any should there be?"

"Er. Six, I think," he reaches into his pocket for his wallet and checks on his paper. "Yeah six."

"How many have you got?" After counting the tubs, Dean realises he's one short and says, "Sam must still have one." It's the obvious answer he knows that, after all there are no more on the table and he's pretty sure neither he nor the doctor have dropped any.

The doctor's calm reply of "No, we brought them all through," unnerves Dean somewhat as he really doesn't remember dropping any which is the only other rational response, because surely the doctor would have picked it up if he'd dropped it. Dean shifts in his seat so he can bend down and check the floor, but as he leans forward, he feels the now familiar pain above his eyes. He gasps and clenches a hand to his head, feels the doctor's hands on his shoulders pushing him back into the seat, hears him say, "That's it, take it easy, just give yourself a minute." Dean tries to breathe through the pain, push it to one side so he can open his eyes again. Dr Barker asks, "Dean, is this when you take the pills for your head?"

The pain is easing but he just wants a bit longer before he has to open his eyes or move his head. The room is too bright, the light piercing unwelcome even through his closed eyelids. He holds up a hand to show that no, this isn't when he takes the stuff for his head, although right now it sounds tempting. He's pretty sure that he heard Sam and Jordan talking earlier and Sam said something about hoping he'd manage without the extra drugs, so he can stay awake long enough to talk properly. He hears the doctor's chair move, hears him walk across the room, hears the rattle of a blind cord being pulled and feels the glare leave his eyelids. He sighs in relief and cracks his eyes open slowly. The room is dimmer, not dark, just bearable and he gradually relaxes.

"You okay there?" Dr Barker sits back down, he's holding out a cup of water.

Dean moves his hand forward to accept the water and sees the doctor move the cup and put it into Dean's hand, making sure he's got a firm hold before he lets go. "Yes okay now," Dean replies then sips at the water, trying to convince himself that it will force away the remaining tendrils of pain digging into his forehead.

"Does that happen often?"

"When I lean forward, yeah, virtually every time. You'd think I'd learn, wouldn't you?"

The doctor pats his knee with a chuckle, "Don't worry about that. What do you do about, say, putting your shoes on?"

He sees a flush of embarrassment colour Dean's cheeks, before he replies, "This morning Jordan did it for me."

"It's nothing to be embarrassed by Dean." He sees Dean start to interrupt, "Give me a few minutes, I just want to finish with the tubs and then I'm going to explain some things to you. Now how's the head?"

"I'll manage."

"Okay, the last tub is on the table so I'd like you to pop it into the line for me now."

"Whatever," his voice is tired now as he turns himself back to the desk. He casts his eyes over the table, but there is still no tub. He turns his head to say that to Dr Barker and as he does he catches sight of it. "Oh!" escapes his mouth and he turns back again to pick it up but as he does so he realises he can no longer see it, even though he hasn't turned that far. The look of confusion and shock that registers on his face is enough to have the doctor leaning forward. "What the f...!" Dean splutters to a halt. "It's there; I know it's there but then... What the fuck's happening to me?"

Hearing those words, Dr Barker realises that no-one has explained to Dean the last scan results or if they have not enough time was taken to ensure that he understood and would remember. He has no idea that he hasn't been seeing properly. The doctor thinks back to his conversation with Sam, and remembers that Sam hadn't known about the scar tissue that no-one had suggested it might be aggravating Dean's problems. It was one thing for Dean to have forgotten or not understood information, but Sam had hung on his every word, Sam wasn't going to have missed picking up on this.

He reaches out to attract Dean's attention. "Dean, I can explain it and I'm sorry I hadn't realised no-one had explained it to you before. I just wanted to find out how much it was affecting you so again, I apologise. Let me just get your last scan and I'll use that to help us."

"Sam must have told me and I've forgotten."

"No, I don't think so, because I don't think Sam knows anything about it either."

"The doctors normally talk to Sam, not me. They know I'm too stupid to understand and even if I do, I'll forget what they tell me. It's a waste of their time."

"Anyone who thinks that of you, Dean, is wrong. Yes I agree that you are finding things more difficult than you used to, and yes at times you are having difficulty remembering new things, but my opinion of you does not include the words 'stupid' or 'waste of time'. The words tenacious, hard-working and determined spring to mind. I think both you and your brother have become too focused on the things you can't do or are finding hard and are not realising your achievements. Many people, following an injury like yours, would still be permanently hospitalised, you're not. You are walking and talking on your own..."

"I trip and fall over."

"Quite possibly that is at least partially for the same reason you didn't see the tub or the same reason you have so much pain when you lean forward. Here, look at this, it's your last scan. This area here is all scar tissue, lots of it, too much of it," he emphasises. "Now when you lean forward, the pressure on all of this area increases hence the pain." He is watching Dean's face to make sure he understands and once satisfied that he does, he continues. "Your eyes themselves work fine, however, if you look at this area just here and the pressure it is under it would be hard pushed to function properly would you agree?"

"I guess."

"Trust me, very hard for it to function at all in fact. This area processes visual information and lets it make sense. This damage is stopping it processing the information from your right eye specifically. The message is garbled and what you've been doing I notice is adapting to that. Left eye information is loud and clear, so unconsciously you rely on that. When you were lining up the tubs you started on the far left because you were confident, you became more hesitant the more you moved to the right. You had to have repeated goes at the ones that relied on some information from the right eye and the one that would have relied on solely your right eye, you didn't see at all. When you came into my office, you kept close to the left-hand side of the doorframe and put your hand out to check the distance between you and the right-hand side."

"I keep getting bruises on my right arm and shoulder."

"From bumping into things, misjudging the distance. Do you understand why?"

"Yeah, I suppose."

"Basically you've got a blind spot and without realising it you have begun to work round it. Now you know it's there you know that turning your head a bit further to the right when you're picking things up, will hopefully make it a bit easier."

"I'll probably forget."

"Maybe, maybe not. I think the fact that you are already adjusting to it, you might not but why don't you tell Sam and Jordan when we go back and they'll remind you if you need it." He notices that Dean has unconsciously begun to massage his forehead and temples. "Is your head getting worse?"

Dean's hand drops away and he tries to pull himself more upright in the chair, "Sorry, I'm fine."

"No you're not. I think we've done enough for today. Do you need your pills or...?"

"I'll be fine, I can manage. I'm just tired. Sorry, I always seem to be tired."

"Dean, don't be sorry, but let me just say if you decide to take us up on our treatment, tell us how you're feeling, you don't have to hide it - even if like now you've got a headache, but you don't want to take anything for it, still let us know. It gives us a better idea of what is happening to you, of how much we can expect you to do at a time. The tiredness could be a combination of factors, Sam told me you don't sleep for long at a time, so your body might not be getting enough deep sleep, also some of the meds you take can make you tired, in particular the ones you take for when your head is bad and the ones to control your seizures. What we'll do is stop here for today and set up another time to meet and chat."

"Sam will need to know," Dr Barker recognises the anxiety again at the prospect of a fact that he could forget.

"We'll write it down and tell him."

"We can't afford this. We haven't got any money."

Dr Barker smiles, "Don't worry, Sam and I have already talked about it and he and Jordan feel everything will be fine."

"No." Dean's voice is quite definite. "This place is expensive, they don't have any money. We can't come here."

"What did Sam tell you about us here?"

He watches and figures Dean is trying to replay an earlier conversation, "He said we were coming to see you, that he talked to you... that I had to come and talk to you... but... I don't know... I can't remember anything else." The anxiety is rising again.

"Right, stop there." Dean looks up at the sharp tone in surprise. "I am going to insist upon something from you. If you don't know something for any reason, but most importantly, because you think you may have forgotten the information, you are not to get worked up or anxious, you are to say you don't know. We will tell you again. At least twice this morning you have been worried unnecessarily that you have forgotten information, information that you were never given. It's a waste of your energy, it's unnecessary stress and so what if you have forgotten something, it's not the end of the world by any means, although, yes, it might be frustrating for you to need to ask again. Lots of our patients particularly those who have had head injuries find it difficult to remember new things, some far worse than you. Gradually over time in many cases, although not necessarily all, the brain adapts, makes new pathways, learns to store information in new ways. The second point I want to make is that you don't need to worry about the financial aspect of being here. Our treatment is still a research area and is, thereby, heavily subsidised, the cost to our patients is kept to a minimum, Sam and I have discussed it, he thinks it will be manageable, in fact he said something about it being cheaper than some of the other things you've looked at." Dean looks down again, hands fidgeting in his lap now. "Dean, out of interest, when did Sam tell you about coming here?"

"This morning, but he said he told me last night as well, but I don't remember it at all."

"What else did you talk about this morning?"

"With Sam?"

"Or Jordan, or both?"

"Sam told me we were coming here; we talked about how my head was feeling, about me not remembering what happened to me. Jordan and I talked about not moving."

"Not moving."

"I was packing, he told me to stop, told me he and Sam wanted to stay here for a while, but that's a lie."

"What do you mean it's a lie?"

"Well, not a lie, but it's not about them wanting to stay; it's about me coming here."

"You don't think that's a good enough reason for them wanting to stay?"

"It's... it's fine, it's just... whatever... What will you do? Will it work?"

"Unfortunately, I can't guarantee success but we've had good results so far. The first thing we would have to do is operate to remove as much of that scar tissue as we can. I'd hope that would relieve some of the pressure you feel and hopefully with it some of the pain. The other possibilities are that by reducing the pressure, the rest will have more room to heal, connections might work better, it might improve that blind spot, maybe the motor control and balance, even memory is a possibility. The second part of the treatment would involve an implant under your scalp which we attach to the brain. With it, we try to control the electrical activity associated with seizures. This is our area of research."

"If it works no more seizures."

"Hopefully."

"No more seizures means more than half of this crap can go too," he indicates the pill tubs on the desk.

"Dean, it isn't necessarily going to fix everything. Some things will still be difficult."

"Some things, not every thing. I won't need Sam with me all the time. I won't be permanently at risk of embarrassing myself and looking like a freak."

"It might not work." Much as he is pleased by the determination in Dean's attitude, he doesn't want him to be expecting too much.

"It might."

"I hope so. I take it from this that you're willing to find out more about our treatment."

"Yeah. Will you tell me again next time what you're going to do?"

"If you want, yes."

Dean realises his request probably sounds odd, figures he ought to explain, "My head hurts, it gets hard to think, I'm... I don't really get everything you're going to do. Maybe next time, if my head is clearer, it will make sense."

"In which case definitely. That's good; it's exactly what I mean by telling us. Now Dean, I know you don't like tests, but we will have to undertake quite a number before we can operate. We'll have to admit you so we can monitor exactly what is happening to you. We'll also need to take you off these meds. You might find things getting worse, while we adjust. For a while you might have more seizures..."

"They're crap," he says again, gesturing at the pill tubs, "I don't think they do anything for the seizures anyway."

"Well, we'll find out soon enough."

"You can't just do it, whatever?"

"For the implant to work, the leads have to be attached to the right part of the brain, the origin of the seizures. Everyone has their own origin; we don't attach it to the same part of everyone's brain. The fact that your injury was so severe means I need to be absolutely certain that we get it right. Now we'll start next time with a recap of what we've just talked about, any questions you've got, we'll go over then. I think we should head back to see Sam and Jordan now."

The doctor stands and Dean follows suit. Dr Barker puts a hand under his elbow to help steady him as his head swims, "Slowly does it." As Dean walks to the door, Dr Barker picks up the pill tubs to return them to Sam.


	14. Retelling

_**Chapter 14 - Retelling**_

Back in the waiting room, Dr Barker and Dean sit down with Sam and Jordan. Dr Barker says, "Okay Dean, I've got one more request for the day and I know your head hurts so it's a lot for me to ask but what I would like is for you to tell Sam and Jordan what we've talked about this morning."

Dean looks at him, shrugs then turns back to the other two. He looks at each in turn, then focuses between the two and starts to speak, "We talked a lot..."

As he pauses, gathering his thoughts before going on, Jordan nudges his knee and says, "You talked a lot! God, he's better than we expected!" The corners of Dean's mouth twitch into a fleeting smile.

But it's Sam who can't hold back and says, "Well... what did you talk about?" The doctor watches as Jordan rolls his eyes and Dean gives another fleeting smirk.

"Impatient much, Sammy boy?" Jordan says. Dean gives his knee a nudge as if to say 'leave him be.' Jordan grins widely and sits back, with another eye roll to Dean and a finger placed on his lips.

Dean starts to talk again, this time he's turned slightly more towards Sam as if to reassure his brother that everything is fine. "We talked about my headaches and seizures, what they're like and what we do. We talked about the fact I can't read properly anymore." The doctor sees the other two wince at the way Dean says it as if it's final. "He showed me I've got a ... I can't remember the word, but I can't see stuff that's on my right. It's why I keep knocking stuff over and bumping into things."

"You can't see anything on your right?!" Jordan says incredulously. "And you didn't think it was worth telling us?" Sam looks just as stunned. Dean's eyes drop to the floor but he offers no defence.

Dr Barker interrupts, "Actually he didn't know... so he couldn't have told you. It's not that he can't see as such. It's more that the area where visual information from the right eye is processed is under pressure so the information isn't coming through correctly, so he's relying heavily on information from the left. The term you were looking for Dean, was "blind spot". So round here where his brain would rely heavily or solely on information from the right eye for vision, it doesn't register anything at all because it's garbled. Until today, he hasn't consciously been aware of it because as with us all, we know we can only see so far round without turning our heads, Dean had no reason to register fully that the area his brain is working on is smaller because it isn't a conscious thing."

"Sorry, I wasn't meaning to get at you dude," Jordan apologises.

Dean looks up again, then shrugs to show it doesn't matter. "Actually while we are talking apologies, I owe one to both Sam and Dean," Dr Barker continues. "When I was talking with Sam the other day, I hadn't fully appreciated how little information the two of you'd been given after the last scans. Anyway, Dean, you able to continue?"

"We talked about the scars and the pain they cause and an implant that might stop the seizures but," he looks back at the doctor and says," You have to find... the..." He rubs at his forehead as he struggles to find the word he's looking for. He gives up and finishes with "the right place for it" instead.

"That about sums it all up. We had a good session. What I would like to happen now, is for Dean to come in every morning next week. I'll do some assessment work with you, Dean, if that's okay. I'd like to do some work find out how you're coping now so things like we'll look at your motor control, your co-ordination, your reading, I know it's hard now but I still want to find out exactly how you get on, your reasoning skills. We have activities we can work through that will give us a measure of what you can do. We would then redo the activities at various stages after the operation so we would be able to quantify the effects of the process. At the end of next week, you get to decide, do we go ahead or do we call it a day? If we go ahead, we'll admit you the following Monday, but we'll talk more Dean, over the course of next week about what it would all entail."

"Yeah, next week, okay," Dean sounds exhausted.

"I tell you what, you head back to the car with Jordan and I'll sort out the appointments with Sam."

"Yeah, sure, Sorry, I think maybe I'll take my pills for my head when I get there."

"Sure, it was good to meet you today and I'll see you next week."

Jordan is at Dean's side as he rises. He takes the pill tubs and walks quietly out beside Dean, hand under his elbow to guide him gently out to the car. 

Sam and Dr Barker watch in silence until the door swings closed behind Dean and Jordan, then Sam says, "Sorry," gesturing towards the door to show he's apologising for Dean's departure.

"Sam, am I to believe that you are apologising for something Dean has done or something Jordan has done?"

"Dean. He didn't used to be like this. Jordan too, I guess, making jokes, there's nothing to joke about."

"Firstly, no Dean isn't like he used to be but you shouldn't apologise for that and more importantly you mustn't make him feel like it's something to be apologising for. Both you and Dean have become very focused on what Dean can't do, what he gets wrong, how he's inadequate. Now don't get me wrong, I understand absolutely why that is, but you need to encourage him to be more positive about his achievements. If I told you that many people following a head trauma this extreme would not be walking or talking at this stage, some ever again. Your brother is managing to do both well. Yes he falls, stumbles, bumps into things, but he walks alone, unassisted, until he's too tired or in too much pain. When pressed, you can have a proper conversation with him, he can give lengthy answers, particularly if you talk about things from well before the attack. Sometimes he struggles to remember words or information but not as often as he thinks he does. Look at how much he's just told you about our chat. Again if you try to ensure that he's calm, not in too much pain or too tired, he remembers most things. Get him to look at you, so you know you are what he is focusing on. Try to treat him like you used to or at least to appear as if you are. He is deferring to you to make decisions he's quite capable of making, he's opting out of conversations because you will answer for him and you'll say the "right" thing."

"The other doctors wouldn't talk to him. They'd only talk to me. They treated him like he couldn't follow even a basic conversation."

"So you know why he does it, why he believes you have to answer the questions, but now don't let him get away with it. You know different, you know he can answer more often than not. You're going to need to be a bit of a mind reader or at least a situation reader, because you are going to have to judge when he is out of his depth for any reason. It's not like I'm asking much..." he says with a smile, "... but I know you're up to the job. You've got him this far, you can do it. As for apologising for Jordan's jokes, don't worry about him either, I'm sure he'll grow up one day. Actually I think he's good for your brother. Dean smiles at his jokes, I would guess they used to have similar senses of humour. He treats Dean like he's still human, still there. Yes he makes allowances, but he doesn't make an issue out of it either. Work together the two of you to help Dean. Now I am keen at this stage for us to work with Dean, but I do have one major reservation."

"We'll find the money somehow, I guarantee it."

"Not that one actually, I don't doubt that for an instant. Sam, you and Dean have been all over the place looking for help, you've had a real mix of doctors, some I can see exactly why one visit was more than enough, but others, maybe if you'd stuck with them for longer they might have got somewhere. Anyway, it's in the past, what I want from you now is an assurance that if Dean agrees to this treatment at the end of next week, that you will make sure he sticks with it. Even if things aren't going well. If this doesn't' work how we hope, **we** will not just abandon Dean. Will you abandon us?"

Sam can't bring himself to look at Dr Barker. He's embarrassed by how it must look, dragging Dean from place to place never stopping for long, looking for an answer, a fix but...

"Sam, you've had a difficult job since this happened to Dean. You've been working your way through a minefield with conflicting and misleading information, good and bad advice and no easy way to work out which is which. I am not criticising what is in the past. You have done the best you could, I don't doubt that. I am talking about now and what comes after. Will you commit to staying and working with us whatever happens? Will you give us time to find answers, time to do all we can for him? I can't promise a quick fix, I can't guarantee that the RNS will work for Dean. I can guarantee that we will do our damnedest to make things better, easier and to stop him being in pain and we won't just give up if things don't go well. Is that enough for you?"

"Yes." What more can he say? He wants to drag Dean back in here now and get them started. Hell, he'll scrub up himself, if they're short-staffed. "I promise we'll stay."

"If he agrees."

"We'll stay." Sam has decided already, Dean is staying regardless.

"Sam, Dean needs to want this."

"He does. He'll work hard, he will."

"I don't doubt it. So let's get those times worked out for next week."

Jordan is quiet until they clear the building. "I've got a bottle of water in the car, so you can take those pills as soon as we get there."

"Yeah, I think I need them. Just thought I didn't want to let Sam down."

"What do you mean?"

"Sam said to you earlier about not wanting me to take them because I'm good for nothing afterwards."

"Dean, Sam didn't want you not to take them if you needed them. You're an idiot, man. He wanted you not to need them. Sometimes, Dean, I think you deliberately misunderstand. For Christ's sake, you think Sam wants you to be in pain?"

"I didn't want to let him down."

"Yeah, right, 'cos you do that all the time! Seriously, dude, when was the last time you let Sam down, huh?"

When Dean doesn't answer, Jordan says, "You'd better be being quiet 'cos you can't think of a time and not because you think it's now. I'm amazed Jim didn't throttle you when we were kids at his. You want me to spell it out to you, Sam is proud of you. All this. How you've dealt with it, how much crap you've put up with, how much you've done despite it all. Got it. P-R-O-U-D just in case you've thinking of looking it up to find out what it means."

There is silence as Dean hesitates at the edge of a kerb. As the headache worsens and the stabbing pains increase, he grimaces and closes his eyes. Jordan takes his hand from Dean's elbow and places it round Dean's waist to support him more. In that instant of release, Dean gasps and snatches at the front of Jordan's jacket as the vertigo takes him. Jordan braces himself to stop them both falling. "I've got you, it's okay. We're almost there." He cuts off Dean's attempt to apologise as he guides him to the Chevelle, "So you want to stretch out in the back or get in the front."

"Back." Jordan opens the door and lowers Dean in, taking care to make sure his head clears the frame of the door.

As Dean moves to lie down, he stops him. "Hang on, just take these first." Leaning over into the front, he grabs the water bottle, then hands Dean the pills for his head as he unscrews the lid from the bottle.

Pills swallowed, Dean turns slightly angling so he can rest his cheek on the back of the seat. "You wanna lie down some?" Jordan asks quietly.

"Not just yet."

"You gonna hurl?"

Despite the pain, Dean's mouth twitches briefly into a grin. "Made that mistake once in your car, won't go there again."

"You better not, who knew you were such a girl after a drink," he smiles. He reaches round Dean for a t-shirt he's left in the car. He checks it's clean then tips some of the water onto it before folding it into a strip and resting it on Dean's forehead. "Not ideal, but the most I can manage right now."

Dean rests, eyes closed relishing the cool of the material for a few moments, before he attempts an answer, "Dude, I was fourteen! I blame you for whatever I drank 'cos I sure wasn't buying." Jordan remains crouched in front of him, at first waiting and watching, one hand resting on Dean's knee so he knows he's not alone. Then Jordan pulls himself up and moves to lift Dean's feet into the car. "Jay?"

"Yeah, it's me, just rest. You want to get comfortable ready for the ride back?"

"Jay... What do you think of... of..." Dean struggles to remember the doctor's name through the pain of his head. When it doesn't come, he settles for, "the doctor?"

"You like him? To me, Dr Barker seems to know what he's talking about. I like him, Dean."

"You think it's worth trying?"

"If you want to try it, I think it's worth it. If he can do something to make this easier, it'll be worth it. But it's up to you, not me, not Sam, not even the doc. It's your head he's going to play with; do you think you can go through with it? Do you want to go through with it?"

"I hate living like this, Jay. I hate being a burden."

"Dean, don't just go through with it because you don't want to be a burden, because that's a crap reason. You don't want to live like this, I get that. You think he's good enough, go ahead, you believe it might make it better, we're behind you, but if you want to keep looking to see if there's another option, then that's what we'll do Dean. It's going to be hard going through it, but I..."

"It's worth trying right? He seems..."

"Yeah, Dean, it's worth trying, if it's what you want."

"Yeah. I want it. Jay?"

"Uh-huh."

"I need you to promise me something."

Jordan's voice is cautious as he watches Dean, "What Dean?"

"If it goes wrong, if I die..."

"Dean, it's not going to happen."

"I said _if_," his voice is determined, "I need you to look out for Sam."

"Fine, whatever I'll look out for him **if** you die, but really dude, you're not lumbering me with _your_ nerdy little brother."

Jordan closes the back door and moves around the car, a shiver passing through him as he thinks of Dean dying. "Not gonna happen," he promises himself as he unlocks his door. As he sits in his own seat, he looks back at Dean, sees he's settled himself against the side of the car with his eyes closed again. 

He moves to put the key in to turn the engine on, when Dean's voice breaks into his thoughts again, "Jordan, there's something else..."

"You're not going to die, Dean. Sam is much better off with you looking out for him than me. You know that."

"If I'm worse... if... if it's just machines keeping me going, if it's not me... turn them off. Don't let them make Sam decide, you do it, let it be my decision. I know I have no right to ask you, but..."

"Dean," Jordan runs his hand over his face and turns to lean over the seat. He sees Dean watching him. "Dean you are the only one who could ask and yes, okay, yes if it comes to it, I'll do it, but god damn you, it better not come to it because I'll never forgive you if it does."

"Thank you."

"Whatever. I'm going to pull the car over to the waiting spot by the door so we can set off as soon as Sam is back. Why don't you get some sleep, get rid of that headache?" He turns back, swallowing deeply as he turns the engine on. He looks in his rearview mirror and sees Dean, eyes closed, discomfort still clear on his face.

Jordan pulls over to the door of the building and turns the engine off. Resting his elbows on the steering wheel, he puts his head into his hands and massages his temples; Dean isn't the only one with a headache now.

"Jay, the car..."

"No Dean! Trust me, I don't need to look out for the Impala, Sam knows better than to treat her with disrespect."

"Not mine, yours..."

"What? My girl's fine."

"She needs tuning, the plugs are misfiring."

"Oh that, I know but she's waiting for her 'Uncle Dean' to do it."

"I can't do it now."

"No Dean, you can't do it _right_ now but my girl will wait for you, she don't mind."

"Anyone would think you didn't know how…" Dean's voice is quiet and weary but he feels soothed by the conversation, a reminder that he isn't on his own with the pain in his head now.

"Oh I know how, but you still owe my girl for hurling in her when you were fourteen, dude."

"Jay that was fourteen years ago. Are you sure you know how?"

"Trust me, your Sammy was the only one to escape Bobby's instruction on car maintenance and I still haven't worked out how he did it!"

"He's a geek and even Bobby couldn't fight that." Jordan looks back and sees some of the tension has left Dean. Dean's eyes are open a crack and he says, "Yeah, the pills are working, I'll be asleep soon."

"Glad to hear it."


	15. Almost the truth

_**Chapter 15 - Almost the Truth**_

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_**Author's Note:** So I shall apologise in advance for the next two chapters... I have tried to re-write them and tried to get them right for weeks - my doubt about these chapters is the main reason this story wasn't posted a couple of months ago! So if they are as bad as I fear I apologise... I couldn't get it so I was happy with the reactions of the characters to the different revelations within._

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As neither Sam nor Jordan lay claim to wanting to do the cooking that evening, Jordan goes to get take-out, leaving Sam and Dean alone. In reality, he wouldn't have minded cooking but fetching take-out is a good excuse to leave the Winchesters to talk and know that they'll actually get the talking done. Pastor Jim had told him years ago that giving them too much time resulted in one of two things happening - either they never got started because they spent too long finding the right way to start or they talked too long - equally unhealthy with a Winchester or more specifically Dean when talking to Sam. Sam, by contrast could talk for hours but that was more than Dean needed to cope with right now so "take-out fetching time" should be just about right.

Dean hears the Chevelle start up and pull out of the parking lot. He looks at Sam who's sat on his bed with his back to his brother. "Sam?" Sam turns to look over his shoulder. "We should probably talk while Jordan's out."

"I guess."

"What... what do you think of the doctor?"

"Dean, I think he's great. I think we should go with this. He really seems to know his stuff and it's cutting edge, Dean, good stuff and everyone so far has improved and we can afford it and he talked to you properly and..." Sam's voice is brimming with enthusiasm.

"God, Sam, breathe. I'm really not up to mouth-to-mouth when you keel over!"

"Sorry."

"It's okay. You like him them? Think I should do this?"

"Yes. I do... Don't you?" Sam's question holds a note of concern.

"Yeah, I guess I do."

Sam sighs with relief, "So we're going to go through with it?"

Dean smiles, "You say that like you're going to let him cut into your head too."

"Sorry," Sam realises how foolish he must sound.

"It's okay, Sam, really. I... I just want to say... I appreciate everything you've done for me since..." he gestures to his head. Then as Sam goes to interrupt, he puts his hand up to stop him, "Sam, just thanks, okay?" He pauses before he asks, "I... I need you to tell me what happened to me."

"Dean, maybe another time, huh? Jordan will be back before you know it and..."

"So what? You telling me you haven't already told him... Please Sam, I need to know."

"Dean..." but Sam can see Dean is determined. He stands up and walks round to the end of Dean's bed. Dean moves his feet to make room for his brother and Sam sits down at the very end of the bed.

"That bad, huh?"

"What?"

"Come on, Sam. You normally sit halfway up the bed at least. If you're going to sit that far away you may as well have stayed on your own bed."

Sam ignores the comment and stays where he is, but starts to speak, "We were near Medora in North Dakota on a hunt, it looked like vampires, but it wasn't." Dean's face shows curiosity as he listens to Sam, but no glimmer of recognition. "It was a set-up. Nothing supernatural at all. It was Walker... Gordon Walker... he was trying to draw us out. Us this time, not just me, but it's because of me..."

"No, it's because he's a stupid son of a bitch, get on with it." Dean's voice is impatient, but Sam can't see anything in his eyes that suggests he has any recollection of anything he's heard so far.

"Okay, sorry, we were researching, you were in the library, I was out talking to people. You were under the weather, we shouldn't have even been looking at it, we should have been holed up somewhere with you resting up until you were well."

"Sam..."

"Yeah, I know. He kidnapped me, took me out to some deserted farmhouse in the middle of nowhere, tied me up and waited, taunted me and waited for you. He kept telling me what he was going to do to me, after he'd got you but he couldn't decide whether to make you watch him kill me or the other way round. You came... you came to get me... you didn't know what you were coming to, you... I don't know exactly what happened, I was tied up, Dean and you were fighting behind me. I couldn't see. It seemed like you knocked him out and you were behind me cutting my hands free. You had got one free and you were working on the other one when... when..."

Dean can see pain in Sam's face as he tries to explain, but to Dean, it is still just a story, nothing personal. He doesn't like seeing Sam so upset though. He shifts his position, trying to move forward from where he has been leaning against the wall to reach his brother. Seeing his movement and the grimace that crosses his features as he moves, Sam moves closer to Dean, figuring maybe it's coming back, maybe Dean is remembering.

As soon as he can reach, Dean places his hand on Sam's arm, he can see tears welling in Sam's eyes. He can't work out exactly why Sam is so upset, but he knows he's responsible for it. "I'm sorry, Sam..." he says quietly.

Sam looks up, into Dean's eyes, and he breaks a little more because what he sees is not recognition and realisation, but guilt and failure. "No Dean, please, don't be sorry, it wasn't your fault."

"Can... can you tell me the rest?"

Sam draws a breath, tries to steel himself to finish the story, "I didn't see but... but I felt this rush of air and heard this god-awful noise and felt as your hands left where you were cutting me free and I heard you hit the floor."

"Gordon Walker hit me? But..." Dean's fingers run across his scalp, along the ridges and valleys of scars there.

"God, Dean, I'm sorry... he..." Sam reaches out for Dean's hand bringing it away from his head. He can see Dean's eyes focus on a blank spot on the wall as his mind turns inward trying desperately to remember something. "Dean, look at me... he didn't just hit you with his fists," Sam swallows, faltering. He has to tell Dean what happened or Dean will never understand. "Dean, it wasn't his fist, he used a piece of wood. He hit you with a piece of wood and I couldn't get free quick enough to stop him until... until..."

"Ssh, Sam," he draws his brother into his arms, trying to relieve the hurt and pain he can see in Sam's face," Ssh."

Sam draws a ragged breath, trying to get control of his racing emotions. He needs to be strong; he needs to be here for Dean, not a wreck in Dean's arms, needing his older brother's comfort.

All of a sudden, Sam feels as Dean's body tenses. He gently extricates himself from Dean's hold, so that he can make sure Dean's okay. He sees as Dean flinches away, eyes not focused on the here and now. Sam knows it's coming back to him. He changes their position, so he can hold and support his brother. He feels as Dean recoils as if he's being kicked, tries to stop him as his arms come up as if protecting his head from blows raining down. Sam draws him in close, "It's okay, Dean, it's over, I've got you. It's over." For the first time since the attack, Sam feels as Dean's body begins to shake, not by a seizure or physical pain but by tears. He soothes and reassures his broken brother and continues his litany of "It's over, I'm here. It's going to be okay."

Sam holds him as the tears cease, as the tension in his body gradually eases. He holds him as he falls asleep exhausted and Sam doesn't let go, even then.

Sam is still sitting in the same position when Jordan returns. Jordan takes one look and sees that Sam's eyes are red-rimmed from tears. "You alright, Sam?" he asks quietly, not wanting to disturb Dean, wondering if he's had another seizure while he's been out.

"He wanted to know what happened and... he didn't have any idea, none of it until... until I made it all come back, now... now he remembers that bit... when Walker... Walker did this to him," his fingers trace the pattern of scars.

Jordan puts the take-out down, and moves to sit beside Sam. Close to he can see the after-effects of tears on Dean's features, but in reality, he looks more at ease in his sleep than he has been of late. He lifts Sam's hand away from the scarring placing it down instead on Dean's shoulder. "He was always going to find out at some point. You were never going to be able to keep it from him forever, Sam. He needed to know."

"He knows it's my fault."

"That's crap, Sam, so don't be melodramatic. Look at him now. He's asleep in your lap, regardless of how chick-flicky that might be and we both know his view on chick-flick moments. By the looks of it, he's the most relaxed he's been in, I don't know how long. So I think we can safely say he doesn't see it as your fault and the only person ego-centric enough to see it that way is you. So grow up, Walker did this, not you."

"Because of me..."

"For Christ's sake, Sammy! Right, you need me to channel your big bro for you, fine... that's what I'll do! Gordon Walker came after you because he was a sick, twisted son of a bitch, so ... not your fault. Okay, he came after you because of the whole demon gig, but see that's not your fault either, that's the demon's fault. And as for what he did to Dean, that's because he knew it would hurt you to feel you'd caused it and him to think he couldn't protect you so all round... your fault - No! Got it?"

"He shouldn't have to suffer like he is."

"No, but look out in the world, Sam. There are loads of people you could say that about including you. So stop being maudlin, he needs you to be strong and ... huh... I'm here if you need to vent," he looks almost embarrassed as he finishes and stands up to move away.

"Jay..."

"Sam you want to eat or... wait until he wakes up?" The subject closed stubbornly for the minute, Sam can see how alike Jordan and Dean are. Emotions can only be dealt with in short bursts. No wonder he can channel Dean so well.

"He's sleeping properly, not drugs, not tense; he actually seems to be asleep properly. I... I want to wait.. to let him have this."

"Fine." He pulls the cover from his own bed and drapes it over Dean. "I'll be back in a bit, call me if he wakes up or if you need anything," and with that he's gone and the door is closing quietly behind him.


	16. The whole truth is what's needed

**_Chapter 16 - The whole truth is what's needed_

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**_Author's Note:_** _So this is the second of my 'oh my god I can't post that' chapters. Hopefully you won't need too many more warnings like that!_

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Sam is watching as Dean slowly packs his bag. He can see the tension in his shoulders. It's been nine days since he told Dean what happened, nine days since the memory began to come back, nine days since Dean has slept for more than an hour without waking with a nightmare. It's even worse when Sam has given him the pills for his headache, for while he's drugged into sleeping for longer, the nightmares still hit but he can't pull himself from their hold. It's an ever-decreasing circle of torment they're stuck in. None of them has slept through the night in those nine days and they're all grouchy and irritable. As tiredness has given way to utter exhaustion, so Dean's seizures have increased in frequency and severity, leaving him progressively weaker and more despondent. On Thursday, Dr Barker had called and asked to talk to Sam alone before his appointment with Dean. He'd wanted to know what had changed, why since their first meeting did Dean's health appear to be deteriorating so quickly.

Sam had explained that the evening after his first visit, Dean had insisted on knowing about the attack and that he hadn't slept since, he was barely eating, jumping at the least sound. The doctor had asked what he'd said since and Sam had laughed bitterly, "Said! Dean _said_ since... he hasn't _said_ anything! He has barely uttered a sound since then."

"Maybe he needs to talk about this, Sam; maybe he needs you to start the conversation."

"You think I haven't tried talking to him, getting him to talk about it? This is Dean we're talking about," but then Sam had realised the doctor doesn't really know Dean; he's only met him since... and so he'd apologised and promised he'd try again. Yet here they are, it is Sunday and he still hasn't got Dean to talk and time is running out. Dean's being admitted to the medical centre in the morning and their time will be up for dealing with this in private.

Sam watches as Dean upends the bag and starts again. It's the third time he's done it and Sam sighs. There's been nothing major the matter with it on any of the previous times. Sam sighs again and stands. He moves over behind Dean and rests his hands on his shoulders. He feels Dean flinch and start to pull away. "It's me Dean," he says quietly and feels as Dean stills beneath his touch. "I'm sorry, let me help you." Dean's head shakes no but he doesn't pull away, just stays still beneath Sam's hands, he doesn't even try to continue the packing.

"Dean... I need... I need for us to be okay before... before you go in tomorrow."

"We're okay Sam."

"... but you're not Dean. You haven't slept properly in days, I... I..."

"I'm okay Sam. Just leave it."

"I can't."

"Sure you can," Dean looks over his shoulder and attempts to smile, but it falls flat and he turns his head back.

Sam tightens his grip on Dean's shoulders and pulls him backward against his own body, lifts one hand to Dean's forehead and rests it there gently. "Your head hurts," he whispers sadly.

"Yeah," Dean's voice is resigned.

"Dean, you're not on your own."

"You're here, I know. It means a lot."

"Yeah, I'm here and I'm not going anywhere, so you can talk to me, you've said next to nothing about anything since... since we started talking about what happened."

"Not much worth saying, sorry."

"No? Why not tell me why you're not able to sleep? Maybe if you talked to me about your nightmares maybe I could help you, maybe you'd get some rest. Dean, you're so tired and so tense; it's making your seizures worse."

"I'm sorry, Sam. I wish I could get it together, wish you weren't lumbered with my useless ass."

"No! Dean, it's not about that," he turns Dean round abruptly, sees the look in Dean's eyes as his head lurches and his balance is offset. Sam grips his arms tighter, then pushes him back a step and down until he is sitting on the edge of his bed. "Dean, I haven't been lumbered with your useless ass. I want you to get better and it doesn't matter that it is taking time, I'll wait."

"You shouldn't. You should go with Jordan."

"Jordan isn't going anywhere, Dean, and nor am I. What's this really about, huh?"

"It's nothing. Just... It's nothing," his voice peters out.

"Dean, tell me, let me help," but he knows it's too late as he feels the start of another seizure rack his brother's body. "Lie down, Dean, come on." He eases Dean down onto his side, "Just relax, it'll be over soon," he whispers. "Let it go." As the tremors cease, he runs his fingers gently over Dean's cheek reassuring with the words, "It's finished now, I'm here... I won't leave you; it's over, just rest."

As Dean drifts on the edge of sleep, he is aware of Sam's fingers on his cheek, he feels as the bed dips behind him and he is drawn into Sam's arms, cocooned and safe from the world outside. He knows if he just lets go, sleep will come, let him have a momentary reprieve from the roaring pain in his head and the agonising failure in his heart.

He tenses as he feels Sam's hand leave his cheek, then turns to bury his face in the pillow as embarrassment flares. What kind of man wants to be held like a baby? Soothed like a fractious frightened toddler after a nightmare? What kind of man has he become?

"Ssh, Dean, it's okay, I've got you. I just need to hold you, convince myself you're still here." Sam's hand settles back, this time on Dean's forehead and his fingers begin to try and massage away the pain. Dean lets out a hiss of pain as his brother finds the worst of the driving pain, finds the spot where the pain never leaves.

Sam hears the hiss but doesn't remove his hand; instead he makes his movements gentler, slower. "Relax, it'll be fine. Let me do this for you." His fingers move insistent, driving at the pain, trying to knead it out then soothe it away. Dean begs silently to anyone or anything that might just let the pain go away for a while, let Sam ease it away.

Sam continues his ministrations but it isn't working, nothing can take it away not even for a short while and as Dean realises that, his eyes fill with tears. As he blinks to disperse them, they escape and track one by one down his cheeks. Sam feels the dampness against his palm and pulls his brother tighter into his embrace whispering, "I'm sorry. I wish I could take it away. I wish..." The movement of his hand changes again as his thumb sweeps across Dean's cheeks clearing the moisture away. A shudder passes through Dean and Sam absorbs it within his hold, "You can rest now, you need to rest, just close your eyes." Dean does as he's told and feels the lure of sleep nipping at him. He allows himself to drift towards it, knowing Sam has him, Sam's with him; Sam isn't going to let him go. He's at the final point of consciousness, so near to being truly asleep and that's when the image slams back into his mind, leaving him gasping for breath and curled even tighter, more foetal, pulling away from Sam. Dean doesn't even need to be asleep for the nightmare to hit, on the edge will do and once it starts there is no stopping it. He hasn't told Sam details about the nightmares, leaving him to guess at what he sees, hasn't corrected Sam's assumption that his memory has returned fully. Dean's memory of the events extends only from the first impact of the wood, to the boot in the stomach that followed it, the next descent of the wood towards his face, his arms struggling to come up to protect even though he knows the impact of this blow will drive through his arm and splatter his brain across the room and send him into oblivion for ever. It doesn't hit or rather it does but not how it should. The floor is uneven, Walker's balance off, and so instead of a final blow, the corner of the wood impacts near his hairline shattering the bone below his skin before dragging agonisingly down the side of his face, narrowly missing gouging out his eye, to his jaw where it falls free, the final momentum absorbed by his shoulder. Walker's angry, twisted face, shouting, "Bastard! See Winchester, think you're so good, so strong, can't even save your little brother now can you. Worse than useless, know why? Because you let him think you'd protect him, let him think you'd save him, but you can't, can you?" It's the last thing he heard before the wood hit again. He has no idea where that blow landed or whether it was the last, all he knows is it hurt and pushed him beyond knowing anything more, beyond saving Sammy.

He sobs again, unable to stop himself, control himself; everything is so far from his grasp, so far out of his control. "Tell me what you see," Sam whispers close to his ear, "Tell me and then let it go." He pulls Dean close again, encouraging him gently to uncurl, relax...

Dean breathes, struggles for control. "The wood," he whispers, "I see the wood coming down, feel it hitting me." Sam had suspected as much from the way Dean curls and writhes in the grip of each nightmare, the way his arms come up as if to stop the blows raining down on him. He's watched Dean's nightmares for the last nine days, half-surprised that when Dean wakes up the bruising isn't back, the blood, the open wounds even the fresh stitches that were there for weeks as his body healed. His reaction is so real, Sam knows he isn't watching what happened; he's reliving it, in every horrific minute detail.

"I can feel him kick me," Dean whispers, as Sam's hand runs up and down his arm in gentle reassurance. "I hear his voice, his words... I'm sorry, Sam" he breaks a little more, as if there were anything left to break.

"I've got you," Sam says, barely a whisper in Dean's ear. "You're going to be okay. I'm here and it's over." He wants to ask what he said, what did Walker say. Sure Sam heard him mouthing off, he'd been listening to him doing that for hours but he hadn't listened to what he actually said, not the actual words. Getting the gist had been enough for Sam. It boiled down to something along the lines of Winchesters were bastards, Sam was demon-spawn and Dean... Dean was a royal pain in the ass and Walker was going to torment him and kill him because he could. But that was what he said before Dean got there. Once Dean was there, Sam had stopped listening to Walker and just listened for his brother, listened to him fight, listened to him reassure Sam as he began to cut him free, listened to him fall, then he'd pitched his hearing to try and catch Dean's breathing or a moan, anything that would show he was still alive as Sam had struggled to finish freeing himself.

"What if he comes for you again? You and Jordan have to make sure you're prepared."

Sam almost jerks away, catches himself just in time. Doesn't Dean know Gordon Walker isn't going to be doing anything to anyone ever again? Sam's made sure of it; nobody hurts Dean like that and walks away alive. "We're safe from Walker, Dean, all of us. Safe from him." His voice is calm and quiet.

"We thought that before, Sam. He came back. He hurt you and I couldn't save you, I'll never be able to save you now."

"I don't need saving from Walker any more Dean. It's over, he's never coming back." Sam can't really explain why he doesn't want to say he's dead, maybe it's because Dean still thinks of Sam as innocent but Sam isn't innocent. He killed a man to protect his brother, there's no demon possession to blame for this, he knew exactly what he was doing and he's fine with that but for Dean... will it change how Dean looks at him?

"Sam..."

"Sssh, listen to me. He's dead and we made sure there's no way back." he can't hold the information back any longer, not if it means Dean wasting energy worrying. "We saw to it Dean. He's gone, we're safe from him. He can't hurt any of us anymore." Even as he says it, Sam figures Gordon Walker doesn't need to be able to hurt them anymore because they haven't been able to heal from the damage he's already inflicted. Dean is trembling; it isn't a seizure or the shakes he sometimes gets. It's as if he's cold through to the core and Sam doesn't know how to warm up what's inside so he just holds on tight and waits.

After a few minutes, Dean asks quietly, "What happened Sam, after I don't remember?"

And so it is that Sam recounts the rest of the story, how he got free and reached the gun dropped by Walker during the fight with Dean, how he shot Walker, hit him in the throat because he moved swinging another blow at Dean's still body. He shot Walker in the throat and he didn't die straight away and Sam didn't do anything to put him out of misery, he let him die, drowning and choking on his own blood. Sam left him and listened to him die as he went to Dean. He called 911 and stayed at Dean's side, praying for him to hang on until help came. He tells Dean he called Jordan while he was being operated on the first time, but he doesn't say he called Jay because he thought he'd lost Dean, thought he was going to be burying his brother and he couldn't do it on his own. He doesn't tell Dean how many times they operated or how many hours they spent operating or how many stitches it took to hold him together. He also doesn't tell Dean that he was arrested for Walker's murder until the police had verified it as self-defence, because Dean doesn't need to know any of that. He does tell Dean that Jordan sold everything of Walker's, car, weapons and anything else he could find and that that's what they're using to pay the medical bills now because he figures Dean needs to know he doesn't owe them anything. And all the time, he talks, he holds Dean and speaks quietly, almost directly into his ear and when he's said all he can think of about the past, he tells Dean why he's proud of him, why he thinks Dean's done so well and how he is sure that things are going to get better from now on. He talks and tells Dean to rest and to close his eyes and that it's okay for him to sleep and finally Dean does and Sam holds him close and safe until he wakes hours later. And in the morning, Sam helps Dean pack before he takes him down to check into the medical centre.


	17. Waiting

**_Chapter 17 - Waiting_**

* * *

_**Author's Note: **So this is just a short chapter, just to move the story on a bit… Sorry it's so short._

* * *

Dean's hands are moving incessantly knotting and unknotting in the sheet. He's got nothing to do but think; think about what's happened and what is going to happen. 

The door opens, Dean looks up startled, hands pulling free of the sheet. "Dean, it's good to see you. How are you settling in?" Dr Barker comes into the room with a smile.

"Umm... fine."

"Nervous?"

"I guess."

"I'd be more worried if you weren't. This is a big deal, but we'll look out for you. It's probably going to be a rough week ahead as we reduce and change your meds. We're going to monitor your headaches and seizures as we go. Anything you notice, let us know - any changes, any worries."

"What's going to happen?"

"Well, I would have said more seizures, but from what I hear they've been pretty incessant over the last week anyway. More headaches. If you even think there's a possibility of either, press call and someone will come straight through and they'll stay until it's passed. It doesn't matter how often or if it's a false alarm. Jordan and Sam can come to visit anytime you like and we'll only ask them to leave if it's what you want or if we absolutely need to in order to help you. The other thing is I know we're reducing your meds but that doesn't mean you have to be in pain. If you need something, just ask. We've got things we can give you. If we think you're in pain and you can't ask, we'll take the decision, otherwise we'll leave it up to you, but you do not have to be in more pain than you have been. Don't put on a brave face because you think it's what we want. It isn't. If everything goes well, we'll operate a week today to remove as much of that scar tissue as we can."

"Okay."

"The other thing I wanted to say to you is that I'm really pleased with the way your fine motor skills are improving. What have you been up to?"

"It's Sam's idea of torment. He's gets M&Ms and makes me pick them up or out of the tubs and stuff."

"Well torment it may be, but it's paying off. I'm away to do my rounds, but I'll stop by later and remember call if you need anything at all."

"Right."

As the doctor turns to leave, Sam enters the room with a packet of M&Ms swinging from one hand. "Oh sorry. I'll come back later," he says as he sees Dr Barker.

"No, no I was just going. I just stopped by to check everything was okay and it looks to me like it's time for some motor skills practice."

Sam shrugs and says, "Motivation technique."

The doctor laughs as he leaves.

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­

* * *

_A Week later_

The room is quiet, dimly lit and two of its occupants are waiting anxiously, watching. They are waiting anxiously on the third person in the room; the one who, at present, is sleeping soundly.

Dr Barker enters the room, drawing both Sam and Jordan's attention away from Dean. "Hello, it's good to see you both here." He moves to Dean's side and picking up his charts begins to check him over.

"Doctor?" Sam sounds unsure as to whether he can risk disturbing the doctor as he works.

"Sam? Everything okay?"

"That's what I wanted to ask you?"

"Oh yes, everything's fine, Dean did really well, stable throughout, everything went according to plan and we managed to remove a good portion of that scar tissue build up. I would hope to see an improvement now in his headaches and also his balance. We don't need to rush it but I'm hopeful that it won't be too long before he can bend over without getting dizzy. I'm really pleased. We'll do some more scans in a couple of days and see how things are going then."

"That's a relief," Jordan says, slumping back in his chair, tension fleeing from his neck and shoulders with the good news. He lifts one hand to massage at his tired neck and shoulder muscles, watching Sam who hasn't relaxed any. "Sam? What's the matter? It's good news, the Doc said."

The doctor turns away from Dean at Jordan's words. Sam's eyes are still focused on Dean. "If it went well, why hasn't he woken up?"

"Sam, if you had let this guy poke around your head, you'd want to sleep off the after-effects, trust me."

"Well, that's not quite how I would have phrased it, but yes, Sam, Jordan's basically right. Give him time; he hasn't been sleeping well for a while so the anesthetic has probably really worn him out, combined with my 'poking around his head' as Jordan so delicately worded it." The doctor didn't seem offended by Jordan's description of him poking around in Dean's head, accepting it as an attempt to relieve Sam's tension rather than any disrespect. When he'd first met Jordan, prior to meeting Sam and Dean, he'd been struck by the young man's sincerity and his attempt to find information that might help his friend, he'd been every bit as respectful as Sam and Dr Barker recognized that he dumbed himself down as a way to deflate tense situations.

"Yeah, I guess." Sam doesn't sound happy, but accepts the explanation and turns his attention back to waiting for his brother.


	18. Frustration

_**Chapter 18 - Frustration**_

_A Week later…_

Sam closes his eyes and tries to focus on the bigger picture for a few moments but as Dean's fist thumps the tray again, he can really feel himself slipping.

"Fuck it!"

"Dean, please..." Sam knows he sounds like he's begging.

"No, what the fuck! Why should I? Huh? Huh, Sam? Why the fuck should I? This is fucking stupid. It's a fucking moronic way to spend our time and I'm that much of a fucking moron, I can't even fucking well get it right."

"Dean, please, just calm down..." he begins to wonder which sounds the most ridiculous, his pleading or Dean's continual repetition of the words fuck and fucking. The only way the current situation could get worse is if Dr Barker comes in and decides he too has had enough of Dean's language and decides to evict them on the spot. Sam wants to just explode with the pressure building up inside as he tries to stay calm like he's trying to tell Dean to do. The whole situation is giving him a headache. He gets it; he really does; for some unknown reason two weeks ago, Dean was able to get the M&Ms out of the tubs, now he's missing more tubs than he's getting, knocking them skittering across the tray over his lap. Sam gets that he's frustrated, but blowing up like this isn't achieving anything and if he could just get Dean to calm down and concentrate then surely he'll be able to do it.

"No, fuck it, I won't _'just calm down'_."

"Dean..."

"_NO_!" and at this latest definite response, his hand swings round and the tray's contents scatter across the bed and the floor.

"Whoa! Do we have a problem here this morning, gentlemen?" Dr Barker enters the room with his ever-present smile.

"Umm. It was just a slip, sorry about that, everything is fine, isn't it, Dean?" Dr Barker can hear the anxiety in Sam's voice accompanied by concern.

"Is that right, Dean? Everything's fine this morning, really? No problems? Anything you want to tell me about?"

"It's fucking moronic. I'm an idiot. It's getting fucking worse, not fucking better."

"Dean!" Sam's voice echoes with horror at his brother's words to the doctor.

"It's okay, Sam, don't worry." He moves to try and get Dean's focus. "Okay Dean. So something is causing you a problem this morning. How about you tell me what you've been up to and what's gone wrong to have you feeling like this? Maybe I can help fix it."

"It was supposed to make things better, not worse."

"Dean, things are getting better. This isn't important. Think how much your headache has improved, that's important..." Sam's voice contains a note of desperation.

"Sam, it's fine. If Dean feels something is getting worse, just the same as I want to know when other things are improving. If something is bothering him, we have a deal that he tells me... isn't that right, Dean? So why don't you explain it to me?" He settles himself against the edge of the bed casually as if he has all the time in the world to listen to Dean.

"I can't even pick anything up. It's worse than before."

"Worse? Show me," The doctor picks five of the tubs they'd been using up and spreads them over the tray in front of Dean in a well-spaced semicircle. "Okay, go for the middle one." Dean tilts his head slightly as he's been doing since establishing there was a problem with interpreting the vision from his right eye and misses the tub. Dr Barker says, "Right, try again and for the minute, just pretend you're using both eyes normally." This time Dean is closer to the tub but he stops short and struggles to refocus, blinking rapidly.

"That's fine. Now try and get the far left hand one." Dean retrieves it without difficulty. "And the far right one." Dean doesn't get it but his fingers knock against it.

Sam gasps in surprise. Dean looks up, "What? You know I can't do it, we've been at this for the last forty minutes, why act fucking surprised now?"

"You didn't..."

"What Sam? I didn't get it, I know!"

"No. You didn't turn your head and you almost had it."

"What?"

"Sam's right, Dean. Try this. I'm going to cover your right eye. Now put your finger on the middle tub - there fine - now the left - you got it - so the right one."

"Can't see it."

"Great. Now I'm going to cover your left eye and let's go for the middle one again." Sam and the doctor watch as Dean blinks his right eye several times trying to focus, eventually reaching out and nudging the edge of the tub. "Good, now try for the right one." Again, Dean catches the edge of the tub. He huffs in annoyance. "And the left?" finishes the doctor.

"I can't see it."

"Good. Okay, this is good Dean. You are beginning to process the information from the right eye. So..."

"It's blurry."

"... but you can see. You've got used to ignoring any information that was coming through as incorrect now it's beginning to be useful but you're used to compensating. As it settles you'll get used to using both eyes again."

"I'm sorry I was out of line." His voice sounds like it is full of genuine remorse for his 'linguistic' outburst.

"Hey it's okay, we'll forget about it, put it behind us. It's going to take you some time to adjust and you'll need to practise but I know I can count on you to do that, can't I?"

"Yeah, sorry."

The doctor smiles reassuringly before saying, "Maybe tomorrow we'll see about getting you up and out of this room for a bit. I think a change might be in order, a bit of fresh air. I'm really pleased with how you've coped without much in the way of pain meds. The bad heads have gone?"

"Pretty much."

"And the nagging ones you were getting more or less all the time?"

"Yeah, they're better too. Not gone and sometimes they get bad but not like before."

"Right, well two things... First remember, you don't have to put up with it getting bad, ask if you need something for them. Second, when the staff come in to check on you, tell them if you have a headache. I want them to check you over anytime it starts to get worse, even if you don't want anything for it. Let's see if there's a pattern."

"Okay," Dean agrees.

"Well, I shall leave you two to it, although maybe you want to give that a rest for a while and have another try later. Sometimes it's better to take a break and come back refreshed."

As the doctor leaves, Dean says, "Sorry Sammy. That was unnecessary. I'm sorry."

"It's okay. It's good news though."

"I guess," Dean concedes.

"We'll get there. Like he says, maybe we should take a break."

"Sam, you pass me some water please?"

Sam pours a glass of water and sets it in front of Dean. He watches as Dean looks at it, lifts his hand, pauses then puts his hand on the tray top, chewing on his lip. "Dean?"

He looks embarrassed as he says, "Sam... I don't want to knock it over. Can you...?"

"Oh... sure, here." He moves the glass until it's touching Dean's fingers and continues to hold it steady until he's sure Dean's got a firm grip of it.


	19. The need to rush

_**Chapter 19 - The need to rush **_

****

_**Author's Note:** There is a line toward the end of this chapter which bears a resemblance to something in the episode 'What is and what should never be' when Dean and Mary first talk. I had actually written it in here before I saw that episode, and contemplated changing it after that, but then figured that this actually would look like an adaptation of that and would fit with a young Dean saying it to a little Sammy after Mary had died. _

* * *

The atmosphere is tense as Sam and Jordan wait for Dr Barker to appear. The phone call this morning was unexpected and unwelcome when everything had been going so well. All plans for the day were cancelled as they agreed they both needed to be out at the medical facility to find out what's going on. 

Sam is grateful that Jordan is with him and that he isn't sat here waiting alone because with Jordan here he can keep imagining that everything's going to be okay but on his own he'd be down to worst case scenarios.

"Sam, he's in the right place, whatever's happened. These guys will do whatever's best for him." Jordan is trying to stay calm, trying to reassure Sam that things aren't as bad as they are both imagining.

"It's just..."

"I know, Sam." He leans over and squeezes Sam's arm in support. "We just need to believe in him. He'll fight you know that. You can count on him for that."

Dr Barker enters the room, "Oh. I'm glad you're here and I'm sorry to have kept you waiting and to have called you out in such a fluster."

Sam stares at the normally calm and jovial doctor, who is standing anxious and distracted in front of them. Sam opens his mouth but no words come out. His brain is struggling to breath, he can't vocalise anything.

Jordan's hand comes over and squeezes again. The support means a lot but it's not really enough. It's not what Dean would do. Dean would actually hold Sam properly, while he sobbed out the pain that's corroding his insides. "Dean?" he finally croaks.

Jordan's voice is more controlled, but Sam can hear even it's got an edge, "What's happened? Is he...? Is he going to be alright?"

The doctor's eyes are piercing and he sighs before he begins, "Dean's had a setback. Late last night he had a seizure, a very bad one. He didn't come out of it on his own. We had to give him something to stop it."

"But now?"

"Hang on, please let me explain completely. Early this morning as the drugs were beginning to wear off, he began to seize again. Not as bad and he did come out of it, but given the strength of what we'd used earlier he shouldn't have been seizing at all. The problem is he had more seizures afterwards, still small but too quickly after. He's not getting time to recover from one before the next starts. We've had to give him more drugs to stop them. We've had to use a high dosage. He's as good as sedated to keep them at bay, but really we can't keep him in that condition indefinitely. What we need to do is decide what we do now. He's not in a position to be able to decide unless we reduce the dose so he understands what we're asking but if we do then he could well start to seize again... So I've discussed this in an emergency session with my colleagues." Neither Sam nor Jordan have ever heard Dr Barker sound so anxious when talking about Dean, "We are still willing to go ahead with the RNS if that's what you want... but we are willing, although it's not our area, to do an emergency corpus callostomy. Dr Reynolds has done a number of those in his previous hospital facility before joining us here or we're willing to re-medicate him with what he was on before but I wouldn't hold out hope that that will be enough. It wasn't working before so... We're going to have to ask you for a decision because he's not in a position to do it himself or you need to tell us to reduce the sedative so he can make the decision. The thing is we wanted to give him longer to recover from the previous operation before we tried the next step. That opportunity has been taken from us."

Jordan asks, "Why are you giving us these choices? I thought you would only offer the RNS."

Dr Barker nods," Normally... ideally... but the situation is at a crisis point, not what we hoped for at all, not what we planned for. Given the gravity of his condition we really don't know what the outcome will be. We still believe there is a chance it would work but..."

Sam looks at Jordan, who shrugs. Sam turns back, saying, "There was always a chance it wouldn't work. He wanted the RNS anyway. He was willing to take the risk. It would be wrong for us to change that decision now."

"That's fine; we'll take him down as soon as we can in that case."

"Can... can I... see him before...?" Sam asks.

"You can. In fact if you want to come with me now, we'll go to see him. I doubt he'll understand much, if anything, of what we tell him but even so, it would be good for him to see you."

The two young men follow the doctor along to Dean's room. It's a shock as Sam enters and sees the amount of extra machinery that has now appeared in Dean's room. "Don't be alarmed by all that," the doctor says. "Most of it is here in case we need it in a hurry and the bits he's connected to are monitoring so we pick up the slightest change."

"He... he looks so pale... so..." As Sam speaks, Dean's eyes open. Sam moves across to his brother's side and leans over. "Hey Dean," he says softly. Vague recollection shows on Dean's face and his eyes move looking for Sam. "I'm here, Dean," Sam says, laying a hand on Dean's chest.

His eyes track round, but Sam can see he's not focused properly. "Sam?"

"I'm here and so's Dr Barker."

"Doctor? Have to tell him," Dean's voice is tired and his words are indistinct.

Sam leans closer to make out what his brother is saying, "What do you want to tell him, Dean?"

"Tell him. Said I had to tell him it hurts."

The doctor moves closer. "Okay, Dean. That's good, you tell me what hurts."

"Me, I hurt."

The doctor sees the tell-tale signs of an imminent seizure. "Sam, we're going to have to put him back under or he's just going to keep seizing. We need to..."

"Dean, the doctor's going to put you to sleep. He's going to try and stop the seizures."

"Want it to stop, Sam." Sam feels the tears fill his eyes as he sees Dean struggle to stay awake through the drugs pumping into his system. "Sam?" He rests a hand on Dean's cheek, sees as his head rolls into its warmth. "You're a good boy... love you always. Mommy…" Sam recognises the words though it's years since he last heard them. It was what Dean used to say each night as he put his brother to bed and Sam finishes for him, "Mommy loves you and will watch over you with the angels while you sleep." Dean's eyes close and the doctor comes over.

Touching Sam's shoulder, he waits for him to look round, then nods. "Take care of him," Sam says. He looks once more at his brother then turns and walks out of the room.

Jordan is waiting for him. "They'll do everything they can for him, Sam. Everything."


	20. Striding Forward

**_Chapter 20 - Striding Forward_

* * *

**

_**Author's Note:** So I figured I'd say thank you for all of the reviews (made it to triple figures!) I'd post this tonight rather than in the morning. So Thanks to everyone who reviewed... this chapter is for you!_

* * *

With the operation over, the Doctor is back in his office with Sam and Jordan. Both men are relieved by the Doctor's restored calm, collected manner. "Right, it all went well, he was stable throughout, didn't give us any unexpected scares. We were able to fit the transmitter without any difficulties. Obviously he's still out of it and given how much he's been through in the last twenty four hours we are keeping him under a little longer to give his body time to rest and adjust. We'll gradually bring him round but given the amount of drugs he's had, it'll be a while before he's awake for long or really with it when he's awake. It'll also be a while before we can tell how successful it's been.""We understand that. Can I see him? Wait with him until he comes round?" 

"Yes certainly you can see him but it could be a long wait for him to come round and know where he is."

"I want to be there."

"Okay, let's go."

* * *

_9 days later_

Dr Barker is standing quietly expectant. He's waiting but he's not rushing anyone, he'll leave the pressurising to Sam, only stepping in to rein in Sam's enthusiasm. Dean has managed to ease himself off the bed but he's reluctant to move away as the room spins and he feels dizzy even standing still.

"Come on Dean, give it a go." Sam's urging is well-intentioned but so far hasn't convinced Dean to let go of the bed.

"I'm sorry, I can't. I just... I can't, the room is spinning."

Dr Barker can see that Dean's energy is waning fast and he just wants to give him the confidence that everything is going to be alright again. It's only in the last day or two that he's truly realised how much the seizures just before the operation have affected Dean's self-confidence. He steps alongside Dean and taking hold of the arm closest to him, he steadily turns Dean and takes a few steps forward unhurriedly but forcing Dean to move too. He walks slowly toward the chair, so Dean can keep pace and by way of distraction from what's happening, he asks Dean what he had for breakfast. He knows the answer because everything about Dean's day is recorded but asking him encourages him to redevelop the strength of his short-term memory and his own ability to rely on it.

By the time Dean's answered, they've crossed to the chair and Dr Barker is asking him if he wants to sit down and rest. The doctor helps him lower himself onto the chair. "There you've done it, well done."

"It's barely across the room. Why am I so tired? Why is it so hard?"

"It's just that you've been out of action for a while. It'll get easier. Now you've done it, you'll be racing everywhere before you know it."

Dr Barker sees Sam relax, when Dean cracks a smile and says, "Sure."

Dr Barker leans himself back casually against the bed and says, "Sure you will, look how far you've come since the first time we met, when you were worried about talking to me without Sam there in case you forgot something. Since then you've had less headaches, you had reduced your pain meds before we operated again. Now look it's 9 days since your last seizure and I know we've got you on a lot of stuff but none of them are anticonvulsants. That is really fantastic."

"Really? You mean it's all the..." his hand comes up to his head.

"It's all you and the transmitter, Dean. So far it's working. It's definitely improved things, even if you end up having some seizures, things are definitely going to be better than they were."

"Yeah, they are. Thank you."

"Keep up the good work."

* * *

Time passes and over the next few weeks they settle into a routine of rehabilitation. Sam and Jordan are with Dean as much as possible. They figure if they know what his rehab entails they can keep up with it when he's released. 

It's almost lunch and Dean is coming back from the gym with Sam at his side. He's had a good workout this morning and Sam can see how tired he is now as their pace has slowed again. He puts an arm out to offer support, thinks better of it, knowing how easy it is for Dean's mood to swing from good to bad, particularly when he's tired.

Just then Dean stumbles; Sam only just catches him enough to keep him on his feet. "Whoa, I only just got you. Just hang on, take a minute, we're almost there anyway."

"No! Fuck this," Dean tries to pull away to stand on his own. "Let go of me, I can do it. I'm not an idiot."

"Hey calm down. No one said you were. It's okay."

"Okay for you maybe, but you're not the one everyone's looking at, laughing at."

"Dean," Sam tries to reason with him, "No one's looking at you; no one's laughing at you. There's only you and me here, that's it."

"And what are you thinking huh? What a fucking stupid waste of space I am. It sure as hell is what I'm thinking." Dean has made it back to the door to his room by keeping one hand against the wall, but now he's faced with the walk from the door to the bed with nothing to hold on to and he can feel a headache beginning to pound in his ears and above his eyes.

"That's not what I'm thinking," Sam pauses before elaborating or offering to help, but he figures Dean's in a bad mood now anyway, so he may as well help him regardless, he just puts his hand under Dean's elbow and leads him towards the bed. "I'm thinking you shouldn't be worrying about nonsense like that and I'm wondering what you're going to have for lunch today."

With Dean positioned against the bed, Sam bends down to untie Dean's sneakers. Dr Barker comes in while his back is turned. "Hello guys. So you're just back, I see. I dropped in earlier but you weren't here. So where have you been?"

Sam had looked round as the doctor began to speak, he looks up at Dean to see if he's going to answer but all he sees is the same bad mood that was there as they came in , so knowing Dean isn't going to say anything, he answers, "Dean's just back from the gym."

"That's a long session you've had today."

"Yeah," Dean's answer is little more than a grunt.

"Oh," the doctor smiles easily at both men recognising the signs of one of Dean's 'bad moods' in both men's reactions. "So is everything okay today?"

"Yeah."

"That's good." He sees the look on Sam's face from his position on the floor which says plain and clear everything is most definitely not okay today and something has Dean well and truly upset, even if he's denying it himself. "Dean, would you try something for me?"

Dean's eyes lift, vague curiosity shows in them as he replies, "Yes."

"Great. I'd like you to try and take off your own sneakers today. See if you can get down to them, it's been a while since we last tried so maybe..." He pushes the chair towards Dean and sees a wary look in his eyes, but he's relieved when Dean sits in the chair and with only a momentary pause, he leans forward.

Both sneakers are pulled off without a hitch and Dr Barker sees the tension leave Dean's face at the achievement, as he goes to push himself back upright.

None of them can quite explain what happens next but somehow Dean finds himself heading for the floor rather than sitting on the chair as the dizziness returns. Sam is close enough to catch him before he falls completely and helps him sit back upright in the chair, eyes closed, hand clasped over his face and a distinctly nauseous tinge to his complexion.

Dr Barker is disappointed in himself, he had hoped that the problem would have gone, he'd felt the same sense of relief that Dean had as he'd managed to get down and get the sneakers off, but now with Dean not being able to manage the return journey he knows he's probably made things worse. All is quiet in the room, but for Dean's ragged breathing and Sam's soothing words as he tries to calm his brother. Dr Barker knows he needs to step in because the anger is going to return as soon as Dean knows he's in control of both his breathing and his stomach again, justifiably.

"Your stomach and head feeling a bit easier there now?" he asks a few moments later.

Dean doesn't answer immediately, which in itself is probably answer enough, but then after forcing himself to take a few more deep calming breaths he says, "Yes."

"Sorry, I was hoping that would work for you today, but you'll need a bit longer. It's much better than before, you made it down without any problems, it'll just be a bit more time and I'm sure you'll make it both ways."

"I'm useless." Dean's voice is dejected, the tension is back in his face and his shoulders have slumped in defeat.

Sam's posture is almost a mirror of his brother as he says, "Dean..." in sympathy.

"Tell me what's happened this morning to make you feel like that."

The doctor can hear the despondency as Dean says, "I can't walk from the gym to here without falling, my head hurts and I still can't even get my sneakers off by myself."

Sam's voice is only marginally more positive as he tries to contradict his brother, "He was doing fine this morning then he just stumbled and now..."

"Okay boys, so let's break this morning down into chunks and see if we can't find something a little more positive in everything that's happened. You fell or rather stumbled coming back from the gym, right?"

"Yeah."

"And how long were you in the gym for?"

"I dunno. Sam?"

Sam shrugs as he answers, "I guess it would be about an hour."

Dean looks slightly surprised but before he can say anything, Dr Barker interjects, "Actually it was more like a good hour and a half, maybe even more. I came looking for you earlier and stopped by there they told me how long you'd been working then. I wish I'd stopped now and seen how you were doing, maybe you can tell me what problems did you have while you were in there?

"I was slower than I should be."

"He was fine," is Sam's resigned comment on the subject.

"So according to you two, somewhere between fine and slow. I am going to tell you what the guys down there think."

He sees Dean almost bristle as if to protect himself from attack and Sam move to stand closer as if he can shield his brother from a verbal onslaught. He wonders where both of their reactions come from as he has no intention of saying anything remotely negative about Dean's achievements. "Right, well, talking to the staff, which I do regularly, they say you have improved the accuracy and range of movement. When you started you were able to grasp or catch things about twenty percent of the time and very dominantly to the left. Now you're moving just past eighty per cent with either side. On your first trip down to gym you managed to walk there but then you were exhausted and they managed a few fine motor skills exercises before they pushed you back here in a wheelchair. Two weeks ago, you'd built up to about 30 minutes physical work and 20 minutes fine motor and you could just about make it back here with Sam or Jordan's support. Today you've been down there for at least 90 minutes and I'm assuming you weren't just sat down there watching other people work but were doing something yourself for most of that and then you walked most of the way back here under your own steam before stumbling, not falling, just stumbling."

"The only reason I didn't fall was Sam caught me."

"Yeah, and I could walk out of here, stumble and fall. Do you know how many people go to ERs every year after falling over nothing and breaking a limb? Ordinary, everyday people, Dean, people with no reason to fall, no reason to misjudge where their feet are, people who aren't tired or exhausted. It just happens. Now you... you are tired, you've been working out for an hour and a half. You have improved, but sometimes, your spatial judgment is still off. You stumbled... Big Deal, let it go and with it this self-recrimination. You are improving. Both your family and everyone here is pleased with your progress. The only person not satisfied is you. By satisfied, I don't mean we stop here, we keep going, but we also accept that this is good so far. I get that you want to do more and it's frustrating to feel limited and to know that it used to be easy to do all of these things, but give it time and don't get down about it. Just be positive, give yourself some credit please."

Dean's eyes are on the floor and he looks abashed.

"Dean, look at me, please." Dr Barker waits until he looks up. "We understand that you are finding it hard because you want things to be how they were before, but a few weeks ago, none of us, including you, were sure you would get this far. Think on that. I'm going to let you rest up now. I'll come back later. I want to re-do some of those assessments with you, but we'll do them this afternoon," and with that the doctor leaves.

Sam had stood awkwardly to one side, leaning back against the bed, once he'd realised that the doctor wasn't going to criticise his brother's progress. Now he isn't sure what to say. Dean's eyes have settled on his hands in his lap and the two wait in silence until Sam decides he's going to have to break the stalemate. "Dean, he's right but... you want me to give you a hand getting back to bed. Maybe you'll feel better if you have rest."

"Maybe." Dean starts to push up, but the headache just increases and he gasps and his legs give way as he sinks back onto the chair. His hands come up to clasp at his head and his breathing becomes ragged as the pain intensifies.

Sam kneels before him, "Dean? Is it bad? You want me to call someone get you something for it."

"Hurts... bad…" Dean gasps. Sam moves to press the call button. He barely makes it back to Dean's side when one of the nurses appears at the door.

"Hey," she starts to say with a smile, then sees Dean clutching his head. "Okay, two ticks and I'll be back with just the thing."

She steps outside the door and Sam hears her speaking to someone although he can't make out what she says. "It's okay, Dean. She'll be back soon," he says trying to reassure himself as much as Dean.

She comes back in and moves to Dean's side. "Okay, love. Let's get you across to bed and then we can get rid of this headache. Are you going to give us a hand, Sam?" She and Sam help Dean move across from the chair to the bed and by the time he's on the bed and she's taking his blood pressure and temperature, her colleague appears.

"Okay Dean," he says as he sets the tray he's carrying down, "Let's have your arm and we'll sort this out." Sam watches as he gives Dean an injection before helping him get more comfortable. By the time the two have finished, Dean's eyes are closed and his face has already begun to relax towards sleep. Sam begins to relax too, relieved that the pain is over again and far easier than before they came here, even though he's upset the migraines appear to have returned.


	21. Setback

_**Chapter 21 - Setback**_

The room is quiet, devoid of conversation, but the atmosphere is fairly relaxed. Dean is sitting in bed, physically tired after his latest session in the gym, but not mentally tired enough to need to sleep yet.

Jordan is positioned on the edge of the bed on the other side of the tray top and the two are playing checkers. One of Dean's therapists had suggested it as both a good way to pass the time and a good way for Dean to practise his fine motor and reasoning skills. They've modified the way they play so Dean can manage the game allowing him to jump one piece and remove it before jumping the next. He can keep track of what he's jumped and which pieces need moving, but with them all looking the same, he needs to concentrate.

"Hey guys, so what are you two doing?" Dr Barker's entry has Dean looking up.

"Hi, we're playing checkers. Kenneth said it would be good." As Dean looks back at the board, he realizes he can't remember which piece he was moving.

Jordan recognizes the look on his face and says, "You're moving that one. You just jumped one of mine that you still need to take off." Dean sighs weighing up the options of which one he probably jumped, decides on one and points at it, but waits for Jordan's confirmation before he attempts to lift it.

Dr Barker waits until Dean has completely finished his move before he speaks again, "Sorry I didn't mean to distract you."

"It's okay, I'm no good at it anyway."

"You'd do okay if you were playing just anyone, but you're playing me and I _**am**_ the Master."

Dr Barker laughs as he sees Dean roll his eyes at Jordan's boast. "We both know I used to beat you at pool every time."

"Yep, we do, but we're playing draughts, not pool and it appears I have a previously undiscovered talent for draughts."

"Of course you do," Dean replies somberly, "Keep telling yourself that if it makes you feel better. After all it isn't like you don't have an advantage playing against me; after all I've only just undergone brain surgery."

"Oh looking for sympathy now are we? Winchester, you've always been a sore loser, some things never change." Dr Barker watches the exchange, seeing the grin on Jordan's face and realizes that as much as Jordan changes rules and adapts ways of doing things so Dean can manage them, he doesn't let him win, he still challenges him to succeed. The doctor can see that Jordan has recognized that it is not about Dean actually winning, it's about him feeling like he is able to challenge, that he isn't so stupid that Jordan takes it easy on him.

"So Doc, did you want to talk to the man here in private?" Jordan asks, stopping Dean from starting to make his next move with a signal that the doctor takes to be Jordan's way of saying, "It's okay, talk to the doctor, I'll let you know where we are at when you're done."

"No, not in private. I just came by to ask you a question Dean."

Dean looks at him and waits.

"Would you mind, after our conversation the other day, if I came and sat in on the session in the gym tomorrow?"

"No, that's okay."

"Great, I want to see how you're coming on for myself. It's been a while since I've seen how you're doing down there in person. So what time are you due down there, so I can sort my schedule for tomorrow?"

"Erm... I think... I think it's 9.30. Jordan, you know?"

"Sorry, dude. I don't. Sam was with you when you went down today."

"Yeah, I know, I just thought maybe... maybe he'd told you when..."

"Sorry."

"You think 9.30 right? So I'll put you in for then."

Dean's hands fidget with the pieces he's already removed as he says, "Maybe... maybe you should check with the guys down there."

"If you think I really need to, I could, but I don't see that there's a problem."

"Just to be sure. I might have it wrong."

"You might, but then you probably haven't."

"I don't want to waste your time if I've got it wrong."

Dr Barker recognises the familiar anxiety in Dean's voice when he is faced with having to remember a fact correctly. "Fine, I'll check, but I'm sure you'll find you're right. I'll see you in the morning and leave you in peace to strip the 'master' of his title." Dean visibly relaxes as soon as Dr Barker has agreed to check the information.

"Fat chance," is Jordan's comment. "I am _**the**_ King. I bet even your Sammy with his Stanford education couldn't beat me."

"A bag of M&Ms."

"What?"

"That's the bet. I buy the M&Ms if Sam beats you."

The doctor leaves laughing as the two continue to discuss the forthcoming battle. He hears Jordan say, "I don't like M&Ms, you do," and isn't surprised to hear Dean snort in disbelief as he says, "How come you keep nicking all mine then?"

"Don't want you getting fat. Too much time spent sitting on your ass playing draughts and eating M&Ms isn't good for you."

"True. I'd only need to look at your ass to prove that."

The game peters out a while later as Jordan sees Dean's hand keeps coming up to massage at his temples between turns. "I've had enough," he says before Dean says anything, figuring it's better than waiting for Dean to admit he's got a headache.

Dean looks up and Jordan sees weariness in his eyes as he says, "Okay." He pushes the tray away from the bed and Jordan moves back to sit on the chair.

"You want some peace or you want me to hang out for a while?"

"I don't mind. You've probably got somewhere better to be."

"No, nowhere better. No other offers at all, I've got absolutely nothing to do right now."

"Jordan, aren't you fed up?"

"Fed up? What am I supposed to be fed up of?"

"This," Dean gestures vaguely at the room, "Me..."

"No. Why would I be?"

"Oh come on. Sitting here, playing draughts for hours on end with me and I can't even play properly."

"No, can't say as it's a problem for me. Why? You don't want to play draughts next time? You want me to find something else?"

"No Jordan. I don't want to be here, like this, playing stupid games. I want to be able to get up and go out and live a normal life but I don't get to do that. I would like at least to be able to follow these stupid games properly. I don't want you to keep having to make allowances for me."

"Allowances? Who's making allowances?"

"You! All the time... Not playing properly... letting me jump one piece at a time."

"That's not an allowance. That, Dean, is an adjustment. An allowance is when I let you win because I know that you can't beat me yourself but as I know it's just a matter of time until you do actually beat me, I don't need to make allowances, do I?"

"Why aren't you frustrated by me?"

"Nothing to be frustrated by. Look at it this way; everything has been improving, right? You can do more than you could when we got here. You're working hard, the guys here are doing all they can and Sam and I, well, we're tagging along for the ride."

"I don't get it."

"It's what friends and family do, Dean. They look out for one another. Look, you've got a headache, why don't you get some rest? I'm going to shoot now, leave you in peace, unless you want me to stay. Sam's going to be back in a bit anyway. How does that sound?"

"Yeah, fine. I'll get some sleep."

"You want me to get them to bring something for your head?"

"No, sleep should do it." Jordan watches him for a while after his eyes close and sees his frown begin to relax before he heads out.

* * *

Dean comes round slowly at first, aware of the pain still grinding on in his head, unremitting, unrelenting. He knows it's not going to go away on its own. He needs to get them to bring him something down. He moves trying to sit up, every slight movement only serving to intensify the pain even more. He brings his hand up to his head but knows already there's nothing he can do to make the pain go. He moves himself across to the edge of the bed, knowing he needs to hit the call button but no longer able to make out the details of the room as his vision swims and the pain burrows sharply further into his skull. 

His hand reaches out knowing the call button is somewhere there... somewhere on his left... if he can just find it, reach it... someone will come... someone will take the pain, let him breathe normally again. But he needs to reach the button first, otherwise no-one will come, no-one will know, no-one will help... until he finds that button.

His hand misses finding it time and again so he stretches a bit further. He stretches unsure of himself now, only one thing is certain, the need to get help. The pain is excruciating and he can barely remember what he's trying to do. He can't see, he just wants this god-damned pain to stop.

The pain... The pain in his head... Dean's world is all about the pain in his head. The pain that needs to stop. That's all there is... pain. The only thing he knows now. He has to stop the pain somehow. His body rocks, drawing up small and tight as if he could squeeze out the pain like toothpaste from a tube because there's just so much pain right now, driving, stabbing, jagged shards of pain, knives and barbs and splinters and broken glass pieces of pain, and it's all, _all_ inside his head.

He rocks back and forth, back and forth isolated in his head because there is no escape. There is nothing Dean can do now to escape. His hand begins to smack against his head desperately. He can barely breathe with the pain. Tears track silently down his cheeks and Dean's world is pain-filled, pain-wracked, pain-ridden.

Inside, deep inside, maybe not in his head, maybe it's lodged in his heart or his soul, there is a small voice. The voice says, "Sam." The voice says, edging through the pain, "Let Sam know. Sam will help." His breath hitches further, gasping, needing Sam, needing air, needing the pain to relent. Somewhere deep inside that voice tells him to move, to let Sam know, the button... Sam will know what he can't tell anyone anymore. If he can just get Sam, there'll be an end to the pain.

Dean unfolds but as he does so, he begins to lose his balance. Unable to see, he can't work out how to stop himself and all he knows is he is falling and falling and...

Dean lies unconscious on the floor. A sadistic reprieve from the pain granted. His breathing is shallow. He lies cold and getting colder... unnoticed on the floor.


	22. Progress Reports

_**Chapter 22 – Progress Reports **_

Sam and Dr Barker are chatting in his office. Sam had requested the meeting a few days ago to talk about Dean's progress and to see if they know how much more they can hope for. They started out talking about the great progress he's made so far. His speech is clearer, more confident, more detailed. His vision and spatial awareness have made a massive leap forward accompanied by his co-ordination, balance and stamina. His memory is improving but they still have to make sure they have his full attention when giving him new information. Dr Barker also suggests that they let him know more overtly when he has remembered information correctly. Sam points out that 'overt' isn't really Dean's thing in that sort of situation. The doctor agrees but adds that as Dean is still working under the belief that his memory is bad and that he forgets more than he remembers, they need to do something that will counter that assumption.

Sam's eyes drop to regard the scuff marks on his shoes wondering how to begin to talk about what's really on his mind. "Sam?" He looks up to see Dr Barker regarding him, concern evident in his face. "Something's worrying you about his progress?"

"Yes... no... I guess. I mean I'm really pleased, thrilled with how much has changed, improved. There was a time just before we came here, when I thought we'd never get anywhere. I thought we were stuck in an endless cycle of his seizures, headaches, tremors and nightmares. He barely spoke, barely ate, was too frightened to try anything in case it went wrong but now sometimes... sometimes he's almost Dean again."

"But..." the doctor gives him the opening again.

This time Sam takes it. "But I'm still worried. I wonder how far he can go, how much more will he get back and... and I wonder how... how to get him to control his moods, his temper. At times he just flares up, he's completely irrational with it and the change is just so quick, so sudden."

The doctor sighs. "Right, well, there's no way to know how much more progress he'll make or even if there is a limit. Once he overcomes his fear of trying each time he starts something new, his focus and persistence are great. It's just overcoming that initial starting hurdle. The mood swings... that's difficult. There are a number of factors to take into consideration there. Unfortunately mood swings are not uncommon in patients who have suffered head trauma. The more significant the trauma, the more unpredictable and dramatic the mood changes."

"Dean's injury was..."

"Massive, I know. Sam basically you understand that the damage affects the restraints we self-impose on showing our emotions. You then need to allow for the frustration factor. He's gone from being a fit and healthy 29 year old who could do just about anything he put his mind to, to being someone who has to work, concentrate to complete even basic tasks. Even the tasks that it seems as if he's remastered, trust me, he might be able to do them, but he's having to think his way through them each and every time and he's dealing with the fact it might always be like that for him now. Dean's mood swings could be a whole lot worse than they are, a whole lot less manageable, a whole lot more violent. He is showing remarkable composure under the circumstances. What I'll do though is make a note on his file and we'll review this again in another few weeks and see how bad it is then. It may be a case of giving you both strategies to deal with it. To be honest, I think by and large, you are getting the brunt of it. Jordan probably a bit too, but Dean's trying really hard to rein it all back with the nursing staff. That is a really good sign that there is a long-term hope for the situation but in the short term it's really hard on you. You need to listen to him though. Sometimes he tells you he's losing control, tells you to stop and back off but you don't hear him. You try to push him a bit further. 'Just one more' 'just try...' Sometimes one more is too much. Sometimes he needs to stop and leave it at that for now."

"I guess I hadn't realized how much he is controlling it. He needs to let it out somewhere and I suppose I can be the somewhere. It's not really that much to ask is it? Not when he's going through so much."

"Sam you want the truth. He's mentioned it to me, told me how bad he feels afterward, told me how hard it is not to be like that round other people, how tired it makes him feel when he keeps it in, how sick he feels once it's out. He can't explain where it comes from. He wants things to be how they used to be. He wants to protect you from the worst of himself, but at the same time, I think, he's counting on you to be the one who understands, the one who will stick by him even when he's out of control."

"I don't intend leaving him," Sam sounds shocked at the implication.

"And that's why you suffer through it, because anyone else can walk away and leave him but you give him the security that whatever anyone else does, you will stick by him. He doesn't want to hurt you, but you need to recognize when he needs space and not more pushing and..."

"He's got to let some of the pain and frustration out."

"Exactly. Now I need to talk to you about some other concerns that I have." Sam's eyes show worry at the doctor's words. "I'm delighted he hasn't had a single seizure since we put in the RNS. The improvement is amazing, particularly if you consider the crisis point we were at when we did the operation." Sam nods in agreement. "The bad news is his migraines have returned."

"Yeah, he had one when I was here the day before yesterday. They gave him an injection, it works so much better than the pills I was giving ..."

The doctor interrupts, "Sam, we've had to do that three times this week already."

"Three times! But..." The shock in Sam's voice is clear.

"Three times _this _week and they're getting closer together. I ordered another set of scans done yesterday. I have the results and I want to talk to you about where we go next."

"What is it? What's wrong?"

"Here look with me. Here you can see another build up of scar tissue. It might be having a small effect, I'm not sure that it is big enough to be the real problem though. However, if you look here and here..." Dr Barker points out two tiny white lines on the scan.

"There's something there."

"Bone splinters. We found a number of them the first time we operated. Some were embedded in the scar tissue, some were still attached to the inside of his skull but could have come loose at any time. We mustn't have got them all, or by putting in the implant, we dislodged more or even just because of the injury, maybe some bone is still working loose." The doctor's voice is calm and clear, but to Sam it feels like it's echoing round and round inside his head as he tries to make sense of what he's hearing.

"Are they the cause of the migraines then? What will they do in the long term?"

"If we're lucky, they won't do anything long term, but yes, I think they are the most likely cause of the pain he is now in. If they are pressing on or even worse being pushed in to the brain, things could deteriorate further and fast."

"You're saying you're going to operate again to remove them."

"I'm asking if you will support us in suggesting it to Dean."

"I thought it was over. I thought that was it, no more operations. I told him it was finished now, he was through the worst." Sam feels like life just isn't fair, how can anyone anywhere believe that Dean hasn't suffered too much already.

"We'd hoped that was the case. There was no way to know but..."

"There is no choice, is there?"

"There are only two alternatives, we either leave it and hope or we operate and hope."

"You mean..."

"I mean, I think operating is the right thing to do because those bone fragments can't do anything good, _but_ it might not put an end to his headaches. Also it might happen again, some people with broken bones, depending on how they heal and repair continue to shed fragments and splinters."

"Shit!"

"Sam..."

"Sorry, it's just..."

"No, believe me, I agree with the sentiment entirely. I just want to say I'm sorry. I'm sorry it isn't over, that this stage isn't easier. The attack on Dean... it's a miracle that he survived at all, it's almost unbelievable just how well he's recovered, it's desperately unjust that this is happening and could conceivably happen again. And I'm sorry I put you back in this position again."

"I should talk to him, explain it. I think he'll go with you removing it... if not, I'll convince him... but please, don't tell him it might happen again."

"Sam, I can't not..."

"Listen, you've just said it's a miracle, you've just said how well he's done, how much he's been through, how much he's had to fight. If he thinks, it's going to keep happening, that he isn't going to get out of here... if you take away his hope that everything's going to be fine, better, easier... he'll give up, he won't fight anymore. He won't let you do it and all this... it will have been for nothing, so please, please don't..."

"Sam, I can't lie to him."

"You can just not say anything about it." Sam's voice is cracking with desperation. "Please, don't let him know, I can't lost him, not now, not after all this."

The doctor moves next to the young man. "Sam, if he asks, I won't lie, I'm sorry... _but_ if he doesn't ask, I won't bring it up. That's the best I can offer. I'm sorry and really it's unprofessional of me to do this, but I understand what you're saying. He deserves hope, hell he deserves more than plain old hope, both of you do, but it's the only thing I can offer."

"Thank you."

The quiet in the room is disturbed by the bleeping of a pager. Dr Barker looks down at it, "Shit! It's Dean!"


	23. Discovery

_**Chapter 23 - Discovery**_

The nurse is just making her rounds, checking everyone and everything is fine. Just popping her head round each door with a smile and an "Everything okay? Do you need anything?" and two new jugs of water are all she's been asked for so far. She reaches the second to last room. Dean had been sleeping last time she'd been round but it appears this time, he must be up and about as his bed is empty. He is a typical man, she thinks, he couldn't get out of bed leaving it in any semblance of order. She has to smile, it doesn't seem to matter which hospital, which ward, what age the man or what difficulty he is currently in, they all always seem to devastate the bedclothes as soon as they contemplate leaving the bed. Her fiancé is the same. She sometimes suspects that he only needs to look toward the bed for the sheets to fly in all directions.

She moves into the room, figuring she may as well try to sort the bedding while Dean is in the bathroom, rather than have him come back and make matters even worse.

As she reaches the bed, she notices the bathroom door is ajar and the light is off. "Dean?" she calls towards the bathroom. Leaving the bedding, she walks round the end of the bed toward the bathroom.

Rounding the end of the bed, she sees Dean, face down on the floor, unmoving. Diving forward, she hits the call button before dropping to her knees at his side. She leans in close, checking his pulse and breathing, seeing a blue tinge round his lips, his breathing is too shallow, his pulse thready. She starts to check him over for other signs of injury as her colleague arrives.

"What happened?"

"I don't know. I just found him, it's not good. Page Dr Barker and we need to move him so we need help." The second nurse rushes from the room, leaving her to continue assessing his condition.

* * *

By the time, Dr Barker and Sam arrive, the room is back in order. The nursing staff have got Dean back into bed, wrapped him in extra blankets to try and warm him, he is hooked up to machines monitoring his stats and has an oxygen mask over his face.

He hasn't regained consciousness yet and they can't tell Dr Barker what happened beyond finding him unconscious on the floor. They have all his current stats available for the doctor. Sam pushes past to his brother's side and sees as Dean's eyes begin to flicker behind his closed eyelids. "He's coming round," he whispers.

The doctor moves over to join him, agreeing with his observation. He sees as the frown on Dean's forehead deepens, sees him grimace and gently says, "Dean, Dean, can you open your eyes for me?"

There is no reaction to his words, but Dean attempts to bring his hands up to his head, an expression of pain clear in his face. He attempts to turn on his side curling foetally. Sam leans in close, grasping the hand that has begun to rub at his head as his breathing becomes ragged, the panting sounding worse through the mask. "Dean, open your eyes."

Dean's eyes don't open, but Sam can feel as Dean's hand clenches his own, the grip enough to make his eyes water. "Do something," his eyes beseech the doctor.

"Sam..."

"You have to do it; you have to take them out. That's what's doing this to him. You have to stop this. You can't let this keep going. You have to do something before... before it's too late." The tears are running freely down his face as he continues to hold Dean's hand, using his free hand to stroke Dean's forehead.

Dean's eyes open, pain and fear-filled but sightless. Dr Barker leans in to see, shining a light in each in turn to no reaction from the already pinprick pupils. "We'll have to put him under," he says grimly and holds his hand out for the injection he knows his staff will already have prepared. "I'm sorry Dean; it's the only thing we can do now. I just pray this is the last time, son," he says gently, even though he knows Dean won't hear him.

Sam holds on until he feels Dean's grip go slack and even then he doesn't let go. He stays, tears still flowing until the nurses gently pull him away.

* * *

As soon as the nurse calls him, Jordan drops everything and sets off back to the hospital. He runs in through the doors, only for the nurse to stop him. "Sam... Sam's in a really bad way," she says, "He's ... He's..."

"Where is he?" Jordan asks quietly.

She points towards Dean's room. He nods and makes his way in to Sam. He pauses at the door, seeing the younger man sitting in a chair, tears staining his cheeks, staring blankly at the empty bed before him. He moves into the room. "Sam, I'm sorry," he says, even as he takes the younger man into his arms. He's seen Dean hold Sam enough times over the years in comfort to know what he needs now. "I'm sorry."

The tears start to flow again and Jordan can feel the sobs racking Sam's body. He holds on silently until Sam calms, then asks, "What happened?"

"They don't know. They found him unconscious on the floor, he was barely breathing and so cold. Jordan, he was already so cold."

"And now?"

"They're operating."

"To do what?"

"They're removing bone splinters. They might be causing this. Jordan, this could keep happening to him."

"Sam, you have to be positive. You have to believe he's going to get over this, because if you don't believe it, then he'll give up."

"But..."

"You have to have faith in him, Sam. He's fighting, he's doing everything he can, don't give up on him now, just don't give up."

"It's not fair."

"No, it isn't. None of it has been, but you have to keep helping him fight."

Sam nods, swallowing the tears back that threaten to overflow again.

* * *

Now hours later, Sam is sitting silent, statue-like and Jordan is a grim-faced shadow at his side. Both look up at the sound of someone clearing their throat at the door. They turn to see Dr Barker standing there.

"I'm sorry to have left you waiting so long," he begins. His eyes drop to the floor before coming back up to meet the men before him. "It's done, we got them both and the scar tissue and we checked as much as possible to see if there were any others."

"And now?"

"Sam, I don't know. It was a struggle... it ... his condition is still critical... we nearly lost him. He's hanging on, but... I just don't know yet. I just hope now."

"Can we see him?"

"Not yet, I'm sorry. As soon as we can, I'll come and get you. But just now we're still working. I just wanted you to know he's hanging in there and we've got the splinters out. I'll be back as soon as I can."

The doctor leaves as soon as he finishes speaking and Jordan's hand drops to rub Sam's back soothingly, even as he chews on his lip in concern.


	24. Done!

_**Chapter 24: Done!**_

* * *

Author's Note :

_This is the final chapter, so one last chance for me to say thank you to everyone who has stuck with it thus far, an even bigger thank you to everyone who has reviewed and to those who reviewed more than once (or even frequently/every chapter) I love you loads and hope you like this ending. Anyone got any spare plot bunnies lying around… my fingers are itching but my brain's dead now… _

* * *

Dean is sitting in Dr Barker's office, he's looking round as he remembers how he felt the first time he was here. Things have changed. Thankfully.

The Doctor comes in behind him. "Right, so I've got all the paperwork here and everything's ready to go."

"I guess."

"Surely you're not wanting to stay, are you?"

"No! No, of course not, it's just..."

"You've got used to being here?"

"I guess. It's more... just knowing... if something happens there's someone there, I guess."

"Dean, it's been eight weeks since your last migraine attack and since we operated everything has been fine. It's been even longer since your last seizure."

Dean recognizes the doctor's 'reassuring' voice, it's one he's heard a lot over the last few months and one he's come to rely on almost as much as he relies on Jordan and Sam. It's one of the things that has kept him believing that this end would come eventually, even when it wasn't in sight. It doesn't take away his anxiety though, knowing how rapidly his condition deteriorated last time, how he had no idea that he wasn't 'just' having headaches again, that the pain actually meant something, it's left him with a lingering fear that it could happen again, that one day he could be out there and then he could just keel over. "Supposing something like that happens again?"

"There were warning signs... we didn't know what they meant last time, we do now, you had an increasing number of migraines leading up to the critical one... if you have _any_ come back and we'll check everything's okay. Any kind of persistent headaches or even if there's something that makes you think something's not right, come back and we'll check. Don't worry though, hopefully, it'll never happen again. Why don't we have a quick run-down of all the things that were discussed when you first arrived? Let's see how we're doing now," Dr Barker flicks through Dean's file and retrieves a piece of paper with a list on it. "Right here we are… The vertigo and dizziness, how is that now?"

"You mean like when I stand up?"

"Uh-huh."

"Mostly gone, sometimes I have it a bit when I get up in the morning or after I've been asleep and sometimes when I'm tired."

The doctor nods, "That's a big improvement on every time you stood up."

"Yeah, and I can bend down and come up again now, so long as I don't rush it."

"Good. How are the motor skills?"

"Um, well, down in the gym, I feel more balanced and co-coordinated. It's getting easier to pick stuff up and I don't knock half as much over, which is good because I was getting sick of having to get changed every time I ate or drank anything because I spilt so much," he smiles sheepishly.

"Well that will help with the laundry bill! What about... erm... let's see. reading... memory... things like that?"

"Reading... dunno... not so good, I guess. Memory probably a bit better than it was."

"You want to know the results of the assessments we did earlier this week?" When Dean shrugs noncommittally, the doctor smiles, he's come to recognize that Dean seems to always expect criticism rather than praise. Doctor Barker has got used to it and is also relieved that very rarely has he had to offer the young man anything remotely resembling negative criticism, but in fact has been amazed at how diligent he has been with all the rehabilitation opportunities he has been offered and how much he has persevered to overcome the hurdles he has faced. "It was good news," he says and sees Dean's eyes come up to look at him, even as he continues to sit chewing nervously on his lip. "Okay, way back when we first met, your visual memory for words was really poor, you were having to work out virtually everything, to be honest pretty much like someone learning to read. It seemed that you remembered a few small words and the only word with more than 4 letters that you recognised was Winchester, which made sense - it's your surname. Then it seemed that what was really happening was you were reasoning rather than reading... it's long, it begins with W, must be 'Winchester'." He sees Dean flush with embarrassment. "No, don't be embarrassed."

"It's a pretty stupid thing to do."

"Not in the least. We worked your name, Sam's, Jordan's into loads of the material we gave you to see if it made a difference to your comprehension of what you were reading, if it made it easier for you to remember what was happening. It also showed that you could still reason things out, even if you came up with the wrong answer, the reasoning was sound."

"Did putting our names in help?"

"Not significantly at first, although after the first operation, you did seem to make more sense of things when you had a familiar face to put to a character in a story. Now, however, your reading accuracy is generally about 80, your self-correction of errors is about 50. Those are both huge improvements. You can now read about a side of paper and then talk and answer questions on it all. When you started you could only remember information for a sentence or two and if you finished and we asked you what the whole thing had been about, you could only give the sketchiest of detail."

"I still find..." he sighs. "I still find I can only read if it's completely quiet and if nothing else is happening. I used to read in diners and in the car if Sam was driving, I'd never manage that now."

"Maybe or maybe it's just 'not yet'. Just because you're leaving doesn't mean you're going to stop improving. It could be that as you continue to practise, things continue to improve."

"Sam brought in some maps the other day..." Dean's voice is quiet, sad almost.

"And?"

"They made no sense to me at all, just random lines and words and numbers. I couldn't ... It was just a big jumble... I couldn't remember how to get the information from it."

"That's because a map is just lines, words and numbers - you don't read it like you read a book."

"I could barely make out anything on the page with all the different colours and the words were different sizes. We travel for a living, I can't drive anymore. If I can't drive and I can't read the map, what do I do?"

"You've been 5 months without a seizure. Five months. If you continue to be seizure free, you'll be amazed how quickly you can start looking into getting your driver's license back. Given that your seizures were caused by a head trauma, you may well have to re-take your test as opposed to having it re-instated but even so, you're well on the way there already. With regard to the maps, Sam will have to plan the routes for now and give you a list of the information he'll need while he's driving. You've already said you can't read as well with a distraction so you might find even following that difficult at first."

He sees Dean's eyes downcast. "Dean, you want to read maps? Do it... practise it... You have a list of all the exercises and everything, the strategies you've got to keep practising. Just because you're not doing rehab here doesn't mean to say you don't do it out there on your own, with Sam and Jordan. Add map reading to the list. Just because we're letting you go doesn't mean we think you've done all you can... it means we think you can do the rest without us. So maps... you sit down with a map - start with the simple ones - I don't know, we've got plenty of sparsely populated states with deserts and only a few roads and towns. Practise reading just the towns' names, then try finding just the road numbers. When you can do that pick two towns fairly close on the map and try to work out which roads go between them. I believe you'll do it."

"You do?"

"Yeah I do. I do because there isn't anything that we've asked you to do that once you've put your heart into it, you haven't done. There isn't anything that you've tried, found too hard and given up on."

"I get frustrated."

"I've never had a patient who didn't, but I have had plenty who gave up, got angry and never overcame the difficulty. Not you though, you get frustrated, then angry and then you push yourself even harder to overcome whatever it is."

"I'm sorry."

Dr Barker's eyebrows shoot up in surprise, "What for?"

"The frustration, anger... how rude I've been, lashing out, throwing things. I'm sorry... I..."

"Hey listen. We understand. We appreciate how hard it is to go through something like this. We all understand it's frustrating for anyone to have to re-learn things they know they used to be able to do. I also recognise how often you've managed to not lash out."

"Sometimes... sometimes I just find it so hard and I don't know, I hate myself once it's out and I can't take it back. The thought of what I've said or done, I just feel revolted by it."

"Dean..."

"Sam... I mean Jordan too, but Sam most of all. The things I've said, the way I've treated him and I expect him to come back for more... It's not right... it's not fair on him."

"You know why Sam gets the worst?" Dean shakes his head. "Because he's your brother, because you're close and a few tempers along the way won't change that. He comes back because he knows how much you need him, how hard you're trying to get better and he wants to be there for you. And in the meantime, he pushes you. He pushes you constantly to improve, work harder, try something more. He wants to encourage you, but instead he doesn't let you be satisfied with one thing before he wants you to tackle the next thing. You push to improve and then he won't let you rest and consolidate. He means well but sometimes you need him to take a step back. Would you agree?"

"I guess, but it's no excuse for me to..."

"What I would suggest for both of you is that first you agree on a sign or a saying, something that you do when you know you can't take much more, something for when you feel you're losing control and Sam _has_ to agree to accept it without question. Once you've given the sign, everything stops, be it an activity or a conversation, it doesn't matter, it stops and you walk away from it." Dean looks at him in surprise. "You walk away and you let out the anger slowly on your own, by walking, breathing, talking to yourself, it doesn't matter. You find a safe way to vent those feelings. Sam doesn't get to say, 'Just one more,' 'Just listen,' or 'Just try...' He _has_ to stop when you say. Then when you are calm and ready, you go back and you start over where you left off... calmly. Whether it's minutes, hours or days later, you try again, when you are ready."

"We could try it."

"You could; talk about with Jordan as well, he'll be easier to convince I think. But Sam... If you can train him into accepting it, things will be fine." Dr Barker smiles. "You know sometimes it's Sam's own fault when you've lashed out. I've heard you tell him to back off before and he doesn't, he means well but he has to accept that you can't keep going without a break, without just stopping and coming back to it. Everything can be tried again later. That is what your Sam needs to learn for both of your sakes."

"I guess that's us then..."

"Dean, you'll be back in three months, agreed?"

"Yeah, I'll be back in three months."

"And in the meantime, any worries, call or come back. We're here if you need anything. Any migraines or seizures, come straight back and we'll help. You're not on your own, just because we're letting you go."

"Thank you," Dean shakes the doctor's hand and the two men head for the door.

* * *

Outside Sam is waiting, nervously fidgeting. He relaxes as he sees the two men approach chatting and smiling. For the first time since the attack, Sam can look at his brother and see Dean, not just some damaged remnant of what his brother used to be. He watches his brother walk smoothly, _normally_ towards him, all of the hesitancy gone. He sees as Dean chats freely, talks properly, not monosyllabic replies or half sentences that barely make sense. Dean looks and acts like Dean and for that Sam is grateful. He knows Dean hasn't fully recovered, may never fully recover but Dean has a life, can function. Dean is no longer living in fear of living, of trying to do anything and everything, knowing he's going to fail or his body is going to let him down. In private, Dean is persistent and determined to conquer his problems, in public, he's still wary, still tries to avoid doing things if he thinks people might look at him askance. 

Until the last few days, he's refused to eat in public. Sam couldn't work it out. He's past the stage of knocking things over; he can manage the cutlery, so why still refuse to eat in a diner. Three days ago, Sam walked in to see Dean and Jordan reading menus for local places and to hear Jordan saying, "It's no big deal, we can work it. Listen if the three of us are there, Sam and I can let you know what there is, no one needs to know you find it hard."

"Find what hard?" he'd asked as he entered the room, seen as embarrassment had flooded into Dean's cheeks. "Dean?"

Jordan had answered, "I was just saying to Deano here that it doesn't matter if he needs a bit longer to read the menu if we eat out, we can make sure he gets the time. I said we can even read it to him quietly; no one else would need to notice. We don't always need to eat here."

Sam had been stunned, it was so obvious, so clear and yet it had never occurred to him that that might be why Dean wouldn't 'do' diners, instead of still eating at the motel.

Sam's grateful that Jordan has stuck around, because in the same way that Dean used to be stubborn and would barge forward forcing situations when they were on jobs, Jordan has that same quality but he uses it on Dean. He doesn't sit back and try to protect him from delicate questions or try to work out the right way to ask the question like Sam does, he blurts it out, lays it out on the table in front of Dean and waits for an answer. He doesn't _always_ get one and he does frequently get a mouthful of abuse for his effort, but Sam is amazed how often it does work and he does get an answer. Sam realizes that the same question he's been trying to work out how to ask Dean, Jordan has asked and got enough of an answer that the two of them are sat here trying to fix the problem by practicing reading menus. There are things Dean will never admit to Jordan, but Sam is pretty sure that some of the things Dean has said to him, some of the concerns he's confessed to, actually stem from questions Jordan has posed. Dean seems to have recognized that the questions Jordan asks come from both of them, it's just he's better at getting them out there first. Sam also figures it doesn't really matter which of them finds out the answer, because between the three of them they've been able to rebuild a livable life. Gordon Walker is a distant memory and his attack on Dean is a fading issue, because Dean has turned it all around, Dean has made sure it wasn't the end.

He's been out of hospital for a month now, but still returns daily for rehab sessions. Now they're leaving. They'll be back in three months for a week so Dr Barker can see how Dean's getting on, but things are looking good.

"So, it's farewell and we'll see you both soon."

"Thanks again." Sam watches as his brother looks genuinely relaxed, genuinely okay.

"Yeah, like Dean said, thanks," he adds before turning to walk back to the car beside Dean. "So everything okay?" he asks indicating the folder Dean has in his hand.

"It's good."

"What's in there?"

"Phone numbers if something happens and we need to get in touch, medical information in case something goes wrong and I end up admitted somewhere else, but most of it is a bunch more rehab ideas for me to work on."

"You okay with us moving on?"

"Sure."

"Dean, we can stay here if you'd prefer."

"Nah, I'm good. Jordan's coming right?"

"Yeah, he's coming. Actually he said something about you owing him a plug for the Chevelle and he wasn't going to go until he got it. Is that right? What do you owe him a plug for?"

"No, I've got to clean his spark plugs."

"His what?"

"Spark plugs. Sam, if you listen you can hear the Chevelle is misfiring."

"Back firing, I haven't heard it backfiring."

"I said misfiring, not backfiring. Look, don't worry, Sammy, it'll be fine."

"Can you...?" Sam waves his hands vaguely.

"What conduct an orchestra? Probably not, but then I didn't know how to do that before, so I'm not too worried about it." Sam frowned at Dean's attempt at humour. "Keep Jay's old girl running, hopefully."

"Dean, in honesty..."

"Yeah."

"I don't know what misfiring is... or backfiring really..."

"You do surprise me. Backfiring, well that's a problem in the intake manifold. Misfiring means the spark plugs need cleaning. It's all under the hood. I guess you need to know what you're listening for."

"You can do it? I mean do you need me to help?"

Sam watches as his brother chokes back a laugh before turning to look at him with his eyes smiling even as he tries to keep his face straight. "I'll tell Jay you offered, it won't worry him at all that you don't know the difference between misfire and backfire when I get you to help." Sam looks horrified. "Look, Sam, thanks you know, but I can probably manage and if I can't I'll get Jordan to help."

"Does he know what to do?"

"Yeah, Sammy, he does. Don't worry."

"So if he knows, why do you have to fix it?"

"I owe him."

"You owe him? What for? Have you and him been betting on board games again?"

"Nah, it goes back a way. Something happened when he first got the car. It's my way of making up for it." They've reached the parking lot, where Jordan's Chevelle is parked next to the Impala.

Jordan is leant back against his car, eyes closed relishing the warmth of the sun. He opens his eyes as the Winchesters approach. "Hey dudes, we ready to hit the road?"

"Yep, ready to go."

"Sam, you give him the message?''

Dean smiles at Sam, "Yeah, he gave me the message, apparently your old girl has a problem with her manifold intake."

"What? No! Sam, what exactly did you say to him?"

Sam looks away flushing with embarrassment and Dean smirks. "It's alright Jay, I've got it despite our Sammy's confusion. Little hiccup over the words misfire and backfire."

"God, Sam! You really are a piece of work you know that! We should definitely go to Bobby's and not leave until Sammy here has a rudimentary understanding of a car - does he even know how to put gas in or change a tire?"

"Yes, I do. I'm not absolutely incompetent." He heads determinedly for the driver's side of the Impala, ignoring the grins on the other two men's faces. He unlocks the door, realising it actually feels good to have reached this point; the point where Jordan _**and**_ Dean are teasing him. It feels right, it feels good, it feels... normal.

"So where next guys?" asks Jordan as he opens the door to the Chevelle.

"Dunno," Dean shrugs, "Sam?"

"Just hit the road and head for Route 66, I know you two would love to cover it in your 'classic cars'."

"Sounds good. How about we head that way? We could stop in about an hour for lunch? See if we can't find somewhere then?"

With that the two muscle cars roar to life and with their full complement of passengers hit the road, heading out into the distance together.

* * *

_**Author's Note** _

_Well, I'm kind of sad that's all over, I've enjoyed writing this story (does that make me a little sick with all that Hurt!Dean??) but like I said earlier… thanks for reading. Best wishes to you all. xx _

* * *


End file.
